


Lonely Hearts

by AliciasClarke (fyeahgila)



Category: The Rolling Stones
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Noir, Dead People, Detective Noir, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Murder, Past Drug Addiction, Prostitution, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-09-30 12:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyeahgila/pseuds/AliciasClarke
Summary: Keith is a detective in New York City in the late 1950s. One day he gets called to a crime scene at a brothel and has to investigate the gruesome murder of a prostitute. While doing so, he meets a charming and beautiful male hooker who makes him shift his morals...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while now and last night I just sat down, writing the first chapter in just one sitting. There will be at least one more, maybe two, depending on how well I can fit all the plot into it :D hope you enjoy reading!  
> (There is some smut involved but there definitely is a plot going on here. Also yeah, there's a movie with the same title as this story, but actually this wasn't what inspired it...)

New York City - 1957

It had been an almost uncommonly calm Friday evening so far with nothing much to do but the pent-up paperwork from the last couple weeks. It was work that Keith couldn't stand much but it had to be done by someone. Actually desk work, even though boring, was at least preferable to being outside in the pouring rain that hadn’t lessened a single bit over the last few hours. 

He'd worked on Vice squad for the past two years, always out and on the move, looking for the bad guys. While it might have been thrilling and really exciting, sometimes even going undercover, it had been rough and dirty work. He'd come home bruised and with bloody knuckles more than just a couple times and had picked up really bad habits while investigating some drug cartel as an undercover agent. The coke, and pills, and all the booze had cost him his marriage and almost his sanity as well, after his wife just up and left to her family in Florida with their baby boy. He hadn’t seen his son in almost a year, but at least with his promotion to Detective and his relocation to Homicide he'd had something to keep his mind off all the things he fucked up in his life. By now he'd managed to give up the drugs because they were messing with his head too much and he needed a clear mind for most of his work. However, alcohol was still his loyal companion almost every night after his shifts ended, as well as all the cigarettes he just couldn't say no to.

Just as he was stretching his arms and neck, his partner, Murphy, came running through the bullpen. He was in his mid-30s, a few years Keith's senior, a bulky guy with a tuft of curly black hair and unshiftable morals. He was one of the good guys, only thinking in black and white, not leaving any space for corruption, or blackmail, or unethical methods. Murphy was a down to earth, authentic guy with straight principles and Keith loved him for it, even if they regularly clashed with different opinions. But if it came down to it, Keith would take a bullet for him because he was absolutely certain that Murphy would do the same. 

“We gotta go, bud”, he declared to Keith. “There was a woman found, apparently disemboweled, at a brothel up in Harlem”, he continued to tell him as Keith already grabbed his gun and coat. “Sounds fun…”, he commented dryly, pulling up the collar of his coat as if it was offering any protection from the heavy rain as they left the police station and sprinted to their car. 

The crime scene didn't look like a homicide at first. The room of the brothel where it had happened was poorly lit and shabby. A queen sized bed was standing leaned against one wall, there were two violet armchairs, a lot of clothes draped everywhere, mostly light dresses and lingerie. After Keith had demanded for it, someone had brought a brighter floor lamp to illuminate the naked, motionless female body of a 20 year old girl named Cassie on the bed. She was lying on her stomach, both hands chained to the bedposts with handcuffs. Her head with the thick blonde hair turned to the right, lifeless green eyes wide open and her lips were coloured with way too bright pink lipstick. There was some bruising on her neck and if it wasn't for the bloodstained bedsheets and the fact that some pieces of intestines were leaking out from underneath her frail body, Keith would have mused that this merely might have been some really rough sex going incredibly wrong. But as it seemed, they had to do with a quite disgusting murder case. 

“We need forensics”, Murphy meant and Keith just nodded, while apparently the news of what had happened were spreading throughout the brothel. Outside the door, some girls were weeping and he could hear hushed voices and people trying to calm each other down. Before inspecting the body, they'd advised the owner of the brothel and security to lock down the doors and not let anyone leave without permission. There weren't that many rooms, hookers, and clients around, luckily, but they'd still need some back-up for interrogating everyone around who might have heard or seen something. 

“I'll just make some phone calls, get more people here”, Murphy said and Keith offered to already start questioning some people. At first, obviously, the owner of the brothel, a fat, bald guy named Wes Jennings. As it turned out, he had no clue who had last went up into this room with Cassie, since “discretion” apparently was “something our clients set a high value on”. Keith was rolling his eyes internally, obviously it had to be like that. Nothing could ever be easy. Still, he noted down everything that could possibly help them and then told Jennings to call at the station whenever he wanted if he might remember anything else of importance. Certainly, this wasn't the last time he'd talked to that guy. 

As he stepped out onto the floor, most people who'd been standing around earlier, had retreated downstairs or to their room. At least there were only two girls, one asian looking and one redhead, still lingering around, looking pretty shattered.

“Go to your room, there's nothing to see here”, Keith told them, just as Murphy came back from making his phone calls. 

“Forensics will be here soon, there are at least three more colleagues who can help with the interrogations”, he announced. “Okay, should I just start already and you wait for them?”, Keith wanted to know and his partner nodded. “Yeah, best start at the end of the floor, so we don't get confused and know whom we already questioned”, he suggested. 

So, Keith walked down to the last of about eight or ten doors and knocked on it. 

“NYPD, open up!”, he called, holding his badge ready, just in case. As nothing happened and he couldn’t even hear noises from inside, he knocked again, harder this time. Finally, he could hear someone moving and getting closer to open the door. 

Keith had expected some pretty young girl, but actually, it was a guy, maybe a few years younger than him, standing in front of him, he realised after checking twice. He had beautiful, almost feminine, features and incredibly full lips, staring at him a little confused out of big blue eyes lined with dark eyeliner. He was barefoot, wearing sinfully tight black leather pants that obviously disclosed his bulge, and his well-trained, but slender upper body was naked, less for a bright pink feather boa slung around it. Keith had to blink a couple of times because this was clearly not what he had awaited. Despite hanging around easy girls way too often, especially the weeks and months after his wife left, he'd never been to a brothel himself where there were male hookers as well. 

“Hello there, handsome! Who sent you up here, darling?”, the pretty boy asked in a soft voice. “Actually I like going down and having a say in who comes up here with me.”

“I'm not a client”, Keith said through gritted teeth, shoving his badge under the guy's nose.

“Pity, you're a looker”, the prostitute said in a flirty voice and Keith tried really hard not to roll his eyes. 

“NYPD, Detective Keith Richards. We’re investigating in a murder case”, he explained as the other man's eyes seemed to get even bigger.

“Oh no, what happened?”, he wanted to know. 

“Can I come in?”, Keith meant, looking down the floor where some other hookers had left their rooms. He didn't want them to hear each other's replies, just to make sure. 

“You can always come in”, he winked at Keith, who was slightly blushing, but ignoring the fairy boy making moves on him, and stepped inside the dimly lit room. 

“What's your name?”, he wanted to know first, pulling out his notebook and leaning against the desk that the other man mostly used to put down various make-up articles and some clothes. There were even more clothes spread over red leather chairs. 

“Don't you want to take a seat? Get a little comfy?”, the guy asked without replying to Keith's question first, while he pulled on the next best shoes he could find. Some black high heels. Keith only shot an annoyed look at him, tipping his pen against the notebook. 

“Do you wanna know my work name or my real name?”

“Both.”

“Well...around here everyone calls me Brendan. But actually my name's Mick”, he finally replied and Keith noted it down. 

“Do you have a surname, too?”, he asked, more brusquely than intended. Mick was staggering around in these heels, swaying his hips in an almost obscene manner.

“Jagger”, he replied, while moving some of his clothes from the bed onto one of the armchairs. 

“So, Mick Jagger's the full name?”

“Michael, actually”, he corrected him.

“Do you want a drink, darling?”, he added then in a sweet voice. 

“No, and it's Detective”, Keith gave back, getting increasingly annoyed by the guy. Why did he need to keep his act up in front of a police detective who clearly was only here to ask some questions? What got on his nerves even more was that he felt like being in here for ten hours already, but all he got so far was a name. 

“What did you do before I knocked at your door?”, he continued his questioning. 

“I slept...alone, sadly...but maybe you want to join me after you're done with these questions?”, he suggested, winking at Keith and shooting him a seductive smile. 

“I don't. I'm not here for anything but asking you some questions, understood? Don't you wanna know what happened?”, Keith returned, his voice slightly raised. Mick didn't bat an eye at that, only continued to grin at him as if he knew something Keith didn't. 

“So, you were sleeping. For how long? What did you do before that?”, he asked in a lower tone again, internally sighing. 

“About an hour, I guess?”, Mick replied with a look at the clock on the wall. “I had a client before that...a regular, he's a pretty rough fuck, but paying really well...still too rough for my taste...he's a lot into choking...”, he reported, pulling his boa a little closer around his neck, but not before Keith could spot some bruises there. 

“Yes, thank you, I don't need any details of...whatever you did...just…”, Keith stammered, getting a little flustered, but trying to regain his countenance. “What's his name? When did he leave?”

“He told me his name's Henry. But...who knows if this is his actual name”, Mick gave back, still staggering around, swinging the ends of his feather boa in the air. 

“Everything is pretty discrete here...nobody will know if you decide to stay with me, handsome, you know?”, he added, again in this suggestive voice. 

“When did he leave?”, Keith repeated as if he didn't hear that last comment. 

“A bit over an hour ago...probably around 5:30pm”, Mick mused walking over to the mini fridge, obviously not without exaggerating his hip swing, and poured himself a cold water. 

“Are you sure you don't want a drink, darling?”

“Detective”, Keith mumbled. “Fine, you got a coke?”, he meant, hoping that he'd maybe leave him alone when he accepted a drink. 

“Of course”, he pulled a bottle of cola out of the fridge, before closing it and staggering over to where Keith was leaning against the desk. 

“Anything for you, handsome”, Mick purred, licking his big lips suggestively while handing Keith the bottle, not without their hands brushing and his touch lingering way too long. Keith suddenly felt way too hot for the fact that it was late October and shitty weather outside, so he opened the bottle and hastily gulped down the cool liquid, while Mick was just watching him with a smirk, still standing way too closely in his personal space. 

“Thanks…”, he just got out, putting the half empty bottle aside and focusing on his notes again to get his head straight. 

“Just let me know if you need anything else, babe”, Mick replied and it was obvious he wasn't just talking about a drink. 

“So...do you know Cassie?”, Keith went on with the interrogation then as Mick sat down on the armrest of the red leather chair that was only standing about a metre away from where Keith was leaning. 

“Cassie? From a few rooms down the floor?”, he wanted to know.

“Yeah, young blonde woman…”, Keith agreed. 

“What about her?”

“It looks like she died forcefully…” he started, and observed how Mick's mouth dropped open in an almost dramatic gesture. 

“Noo?! Cassie? But she's such a sweet little angel…who would do something like that to her?”, Mick was seemingly shocked, pressing a hand to his face and looked at Keith out of huge eyes that were welling up in tears.

“That's what I want to find out and why I'm here”, Keith returned. “So you did know her?”

“Yes...she was so beautiful...oh my god, I cannot believe this”, Mick was outright crying now and Keith took some more sips of his cola in order to give him a moment to calm down again. 

“Will you be alright to continue, Mick?”, he asked after a while as the other was wiping away his tears with a paper handkerchief and looked at Keith almost surprised after what he just said.

“You didn't call me Brendan”, he got out, his voice still thick with tears. 

“Well...Mick's your real name”, Keith said, naturally. 

“I just...I'm not used to…”, he started sobbing again. Keith sighed and stepped a little closer, reaching out a hand awkwardly, but stopping short before he could touch Mick's bare shoulder in a consoling gesture. Mick noticed and pushed himself up off the armrest, stumbling into Keith, who reflexively caught him before he could trip and so Mick ended up leaning against him, clinging onto the lapels of his open coat, while Keith awkwardly stood there, not sure where to put his arms. 

After a short while, Mick had calmed down again, breathing evenly and let go of his coat. 

“Are you okay to go on with some more questions?”, Keith asked carefully, as Mick was still standing really closely, brushing his tears away with a hand. 

“What happened to Cassie?”, he asked.

“I cannot name any details”, Keith explained. 

“Did she die quickly?”

“A pathologist will have to examine her to determine that”, he meant and Mick only nodded. 

“Do I need to be afraid?”, he asked and actually looked alarmed. 

“Of what?”

“That whoever did that to Cassie could come back? And could hurt or kill more of us?”, he wondered, pulling at the end of his boa again. 

“I honestly cannot tell you this. But chances for it being a serial killer are slimmer than for it being any other motive”, Keith meant honestly. 

“Well, you know what would make me feel a little safer? If you stayed with me tonight”, Mick replied, apparently in his flirty mood yet again. 

“I cannot do that”, Keith just gave back, wondering how the other man could go from being sad and shocked about a friend being killed to making a turn on him again in the matter of minutes. 

“Why not? You're not married”, Mick said, looking at Keith's ringless hand. 

“I’ve got more interrogations to lead”, he simply meant, clearing his throat. 

“You aren’t even done questioning me”, Mick threw in. 

“Because you keep distracting all the time”, Keith tried to reason. 

“Oh, is that so? Am I distracting you?”, Mick was using that suggestive tone once more. 

“No, that's not what I meant”, he quickly said, sounding rather frustrated. 

“You're so handsome, you know that?”, Mick asked him, smiling sweetly. 

“I'm not a homosexual, you know that?”, Keith gave back, angrily glaring at him. Why couldn't he just stop being so seductive? 

“I never said that.”

“Then stop your whole...whatever you’re doing here”, Keith said, gesturing vaguely. 

“Why? You don't like it? Or you do like it...but don't know how to handle it?”, he smirked at him, almost knowingly and Keith grew increasingly angry, but he just didn’t know what to reply to that. He'd never admit to anybody that Mick, with his pretty face, and full lips, and his bold seduction was in fact turning him on.

“You look tired...a little distraction won't hurt, I promise”, Mick purred and scooted even closer, pressing the palm of his hand against Keith's crotch. 

“Take your hands away from me”, Keith growled, but not pushing him away. He hadn't been touched like that by anyone in months and it felt too damn good, even if Mick was a guy. He was torn between feeling ashamed for being so needy and just wanting to lean into Mick's touch, demanding more. 

“Come on, darling. I can see you like that”, Mick returned, not stepping away, but rather pushing Keith back onto the desk and stepping in between his legs. 

“Leave me alone”, he got out in a weak attempt to stop what was happening. He knew exactly that he shouldn't do this. It was wrong on so many levels. But he was so touch-starved and lonely and his blood was starting to rush into his groins, leaving him light headed.

“The door's open...you could have left minutes ago. Yet...you’re still here, not even trying to push me away. What does this tell me?”

Keith didn't have an answer to that. Other than that Mick was mesmerizing. He swallowed heavily, panicking a little, while fishing for anything reasonable to say. But there was nothing. He wasn't gay, he had only ever been with women, so why did Mick make him all weak and desperate? He hadn't slept with anybody in at least three months and he was really lonely and overworked, but was this an excuse to fall for the cheap seduction of a male hooker?

“Do you want me?”, Mick whispered, pressing his hand against Keith's bulge once more, which made his breath quicken. “I think you want me…” 

“What do you want to do, darling? You want me to give you head?”

“No…”, Keith shook his head vigorously, desperately trying not to think about how Mick's full lips would feel like on that sensitive skin. He knew this was the worst idea he ever had and he should get out of here as soon as possible, but he couldn't get himself to move. Mick was beautiful and stunning and he just couldn't rip himself away. It was like he'd cast a spell on him. But he also was a possible witness in a murder case, a little voice at the back of his head kept reminding him. Keith wasn't as ethical and morally correct as Murphy. He was ready to play it a little dirty if it meant getting closer to the goal. He still always kept within the bounds of the law and would never do illegal shit like taking hush-money or something alike. Sleeping with a hooker while on the job wasn't the gentleman way of doing things, but while undercover he'd done it before. Only that it were women. 

“What then?”, Mick went on in that low voice, pushing Keith's coat off his shoulders, before starting to unbutton his shirt. 

“Do you want to fuck me?”, he whispered in Keith's ear, pressing his thigh between his legs, making him moan. 

“Damn…”, he groaned, balling his hands into fists. Why was Mick being so irresistible?

“You want to fuck me”, Mick repeated, his smirk almost audible and Keith could sense Mick getting harder in his skintight leather pants. 

“Come on, handsome”, Mick took his hands and pulled him up, just to lead him over to the bed and pushed Keith down on it, before straddling his lap. 

“You can touch me, you know?”, he meant as he wrapped his arms around Keith's neck and started to press kisses to his jawline. Keith made a sound between moaning and growling and then grabbed Mick by his hips, pulling him closer so that he eventually fell down on his back and Mick leaned over him, continuing to unbutton his shirt. 

“God, you’re so hot…”, Mick sighed, as he helped Keith out of his shirt and examined his bare upper body. It made Keith blush visibly because he'd never heard that before from a guy. 

Mick continued to press sweet kisses onto his chest and collarbones, nibbing a little at some sensitive spots and making Keith crane his head back. All the while he opened his belt and the zipper of Keith's trousers, brushing against his underpants and finding him hard already. Keith groaned at the light touch and struggled to kick his trousers away, before pulling Mick close and spinning them around so that he could lean on top of him. He started to pull away the pink boa, some heavy bruising appearing underneath. He knew he probably should ask him what happened, but he couldn't think clearly anymore. Mick was just so beautiful and he wanted him badly.

“What is it, darling?”, Mick asked as Keith just sat back onto his hips, not doing anything. 

“I...I haven't…”, he stammered, blushing and averting his gaze. 

“You haven't fucked a guy yet, I know…”, Mick said with a grin. “Just get me out of these damn pants first, okay? Then we'll see further”, he winked at him. Keith sat up a little, there wasn't a button or a zipper to open, so he just began wriggling them down a bit, which proved tough since they were so tight. He wasn't surprised at all to find out Mick wasn't wearing anything underneath, but he wasn't prepared for how hot and arousing this sight was. As he pulled his pants further down, he could clearly see how hard and bothered Mick already was as he slowly emerged gradually from under the much too tight fabrics. It almost made Keith feel dizzy seeing him like that and he couldn't tell when he last longed for someone that much, as he felt himself getting even more turned on as well. When he'd finally freed Mick of these way too tight trousers, he quickly got rid of his own underpants, before searching Mick’s eyes, looking at him a bit uncertain. 

“How do you like it?”, he dared to ask, blushing a little. But he'd never done that before and he needed to know. He didn't just want to assume. Also he didn't want to hurt him, Mick might be a hooker, but he was a human being and not just something to fuck.

“How do you like it?”, Mick repeated his question with a grin and Keith blushed even more. 

“I mean...how do you...usually…”, he stammered, feeling somewhat lost. 

“Well...a lot of clients just...take me from behind...if you’re into that”, Mick said, pulling Keith down to him and started sucking on his neck while he slid a hand between their bodies and wrapped it around him, teasing his tip a little, which made Keith buck his hips.

“But you don't enjoy that?”, he breathed out between a stifled moan as Mick kept up his teasing. 

“I like it better...when I...I can see your face and kiss you”, Mick admitted and for the first time this evening, he sounded almost shy. Keith smiled at him a little before Mick leaned up to capture his mouth in a passionate kiss. His lips felt incredibly soft and Keith returned the kiss hungrily, as their bodies kept rocking against each other. 

“Let me just...get some lube”, Mick breathed heavily as they parted after a while and he reached over to the tube on the nightstand, pressing a little onto the palm of his hand. He then massaged a little of it onto Keith, which made him exhale hot moans and then used the rest to prepare himself. When he was done, he wrapped his legs around Keith's hips, pulling him down for another longing kiss. Keith kissed him back demandingly, adjusting his position and then slowly started to slip inside Mick, making both of them groan in pleasure. 

“Okay?”, he asked, mouth close to Mick's ear, carefully sliding into him further as Mick just nodded and wrapped his arms around his neck tighter. 

“Okay”, he breathed out after another moment. “Just take me”, he added and it almost sounded pleading, before Keith started rocking against him, thrusting into him in a slow pace, trying to figure out how it felt best for both of them. 

“Oh damn…”, Mick breathed out, all worked up already as Keith apparently started hitting the right spots and started going a little faster. He hadn't known how much be needed this until he was fucking Mick, had never even thought about doing this to another man, but it made him feel incredible and he wanted it so badly. It wasn't better or worse than with a woman, just different, and he greatly enjoyed making Mick moan and almost plead for more. As he felt like he was getting close, he wrapped his hand around Mick, teasing and rubbing him, while he continued to thrust into him. Like this, Mick finished off first, digging his nails into Keith’s back, while throwing his head back in pleasure. Seeing him like this, Keith didn’t take much longer either. He came hard, stifling his moan by gently biting down on Mick's shoulder. Shaking and panting, he felt Mick still contracting around him and then collapsed halfway on top of him. He kept waiting a few moments until he finally stopped trembling and then carefully pulled out of Mick. Keith was gasping for air, overwhelmed by his feelings and he buried his face in Mick's neck. 

“Did you like it, darling?”, Mick wanted to know after a while, tangling a hand in Keith's messed-up hair. 

“I need to leave”, he only heard himself saying, the bliss fading away, making room for clear thoughts again. Truth was, that he'd enjoyed this more than he'd ever dare to admit and at the same time he felt like it was the worst possible thing he ever could have done. Mick was a witness, probably, he couldn't just go around like that, compromising their investigations just because he didn't get a good fuck in some while.

“Keith…”, Mick started, trying to stretch his arm out and touch him, but Keith just pulled away and got up. 

“No”, he simply returned not wanting any backtalk. He took one of the paper towels from Mick's nightstand and cleaned himself up a little. 

“Just let me say something?”, Mick meanwhile pleaded. 

“You got ‘til I'm dressed”, he meant, slipping his trousers on. 

“I just...I wanted to thank you...that's all”, Mick admitted coyly. “I enjoyed this...a lot…”

“I need to get going”, Keith just returned, buttoning up his shirt. 

“Can I see you again?”

“I need to investigate in a murder case here...surely you'll see me around”, he answered like he didn't know what Mick actually meant as he put his coat on. 

“No, I meant...will we do this again?”, Mick dared to ask. 

Instead of replying, Keith grabbed his wallet from his pocket and pulled out more than three times as much money that he'd give to any other prostitute. 

“I don't want your money”, Mick said, looking somewhat disappointed. “Please...keep it. Don't ruin what you made me feel like by offering me money now.”

“Whatever…”, Keith mumbled, pushing the bills back into his wallet. “I've got stuff to do. Goodnight, Mick”, he added before just leaving without a second look. 

Just as he was outside on the floor, seeing the forensics team leaving the crime scene, it became apparent to him, that he’d need to see Mick again and finish the interrogation. He had barely got anything from him so far because he was a needy idiot. Keith wanted to either punch himself or find the next best bottle of whiskey. Since he couldn't do any of that right now, he pulled out his cigarettes and lighted one. 

“Hey, buddy!”, Murphy called over to him from one of the rooms he'd just left. “Any good info yet?”

“No...let's continue tomorrow, I need to get some sleep…”, Keith simply replied without looking at his partner. “I'm taking the subway home”, he added, before just strutting down the stairs without as much as a goodbye.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Keith awoke from a damp knocking sound that apparently stemmed from someone trying to kick the door to his apartment in and which almost made his head explode. As he slowly opened his tired eyes, he immediately closed them again. It might have been a grey day outside, but even with the dark clouds hanging over the city threatening more rain it still was too bright for his alcohol dazed senses. When the knocking didn't stop and he could hear Murphy's voice calling for him, he sighed heavily and yelled that he was getting ready. Then he plagued himself out of bed, squeezing his eyes halfways shut against the light and stumbled over to the door on bare feet and in only his underpants. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, pal?”, Murphy greeted him and didn't look amused at all seeing him in this condition. “You’re drunk…”, he asserted unnecessarily. 

“Morning, Murph”, was all Keith got out, leaning against the doorframe in order to find some hold as his head was still spinning. 

“We need you, there are about twenty interrogations to lead as of now and you are lying around here, drunk, at 10:45am!”, Murphy almost screamed at him, really outraged at Keith's behaviour. 

“Go get into the shower, I'll make you a cup of coffee”, he added then in a calmer voice as Keith just stood there, pressing a hand against his aching head. 

Half an hour later, Keith was as fit as it could be after having almost half a bottle of whiskey the night before and while Murphy was driving to the station, Keith was pulling some drags from his third cigarette. 

“Care to tell me what the fuck happened?”, Murphy wanted to know, but Keith only shook his head, immediately regretting it as a stinging pain shot through his brains. 

He would rather have his head actually explode than tell Murphy about what happened in that brothel the night before. First of, it would never happen again and second, it was nobody's damn business. Probably Keith should get rid of the principles he learned at Vice and adopt some more of Murphy's morals. At least he was absolutely convinced that his partner wouldn't just jump into bed with a male prostitute, who above all might be a witness in a homicide investigation. 

“You can talk to me, bud. If you fucked up, you even should talk to me”, Murphy added and threw him a questioning look. 

“There's nothing to tell”, he claimed, having another drag on his cigarette. 

“Fine. But I don't want to have to drag your ass into work like this ever again, are we clear?”

“Understood…”, Keith mumbled, rolling down the window to throw out the cigarette. 

Even though it was hell to focus in his hungover state, Keith managed to type down a short protocol of what had happened and the statements he collected from Jennings and Mick. It took him until lunch time and as Murphy came over to his desk to ask him whether he was hungry, he declined because he felt like he'd be puking if he ate anything. Murphy assessed the couple lines on the typewriter, muttering something under his breath. 

“What?”, Keith asked mildly irritated, gulping down the rest of some cold coffee. 

“What was that second witness talk you did? Why's there barely any information?”

“Who was that with?”, Keith wanted to know even though he knew exactly. 

“Some guy named Michael Jagger aka Brendan...Jesus, Keith, you typed it down right there!”, Murphy replied, pointing at the paper in the typewriter and sounded frustrated with him. “What happened?”

“I need to talk to him again, I know...when I told him about Cassie, he...lost it a litte. After that it was no use to further question him”, he meant and it wasn't even a real lie. 

“Then what did take you so long? These are the only two interviews you lead last night? While we were there for almost four hours?”, Murphy stared at him in disbelief. 

“I…I don't know”, Keith stuttered, his head spinning while he was desperately trying to find some reasonable and halfways believable explanation. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Keith...you need to get your goddamn shit together, hear me, pal?”

“I know…”, Keith replied almost sheepishly and pressed a hand flat against his aching forehead.

“We need you...the press already caught wind of the whole thing and is spinning some weird modern Jack the Ripper story here, even though there literally is not a single clue that it might be a serial killer”, he complained and Keith only mumbled something incomprehensible. “But the Captain is handling that, he'll be giving a short press statement later about the current state of the investigation”, Murphy added. 

“I'm gonna get something to eat now, when I'm done we're driving back to the crime scene and start questioning the hookers we didn't last night. You'll go back to that...Brendan guy as well, finish up that interview. Mallory and Chuck are out there right now questioning the clients whose personal data we could get last night”, he explained then and Keith only nodded lightly. 

As they arrived at the brothel, apparently the business downstairs was going on as usual as if nothing had happened. Lightly dressed women were dancing on tables or sitting at the bar, flirting with clients. Upstairs, it was a different matter. Cassie's room on the first floor was locked down and nobody was allowed to enter it, only police. Also Jennings had promised them that during the time it would take them to conduct the interviews, there would be no clients allowed in the rooms, since they obviously didn't want to walk in on something. 

Murphy told him to question everyone on first floor, spare the two he had already interrogated himself the night before, while he was doing the second. Keith knocked at the first door, deciding that he'd talk to everyone but Mick right now and do his job properly. In the end he still could go to his room, would have to go, and question him anew. But at the moment he just couldn't face the perspective of seeing him again. 

The first girl he questioned was the redhead he’d seen on the floor the day before. Her real name was Siobhan since she was from Ireland, but she insisted on him calling her Grace. She seemed to be pretty shaken by the news of Cassie's murder, always needing a moment to dry her eyes with a tissue. In contrast to Mick, she didn't even try to make any advances towards him, apparently she was still too shocked about what happened, or she simply had some respect for a cop who simply wanted to do his job. 

As it turned out, she'd been quite busy with a client who stayed a couple of hours, right during the time where the homicide apparently happened. So she wasn't of any great help, since she didn't notice what went on outside of her room, and also hadn't seen Cassie before. But at least she knew the actual name of her client and Keith was glad to leave with at least something that could be helpful. 

Next, he knocked at the door of the room right next to the one Cassie had occupied. A tall brunette, who was only wearing a yellow bikini for some reason, opened up and Keith had to remind himself that he was there for work reasons only, ripping his eyes away from her decollete, just to be greeted by her bold smirk. 

“So...what do you want to know, Detective?”, she asked him as he was standing in her room, while she lasciviously lounged on her bed. In contrast to the redhead, she didn't seem particularly shocked or sad. 

Keith asked her the same questions that he'd also had for the girl before, starting with her name, where she was and whom she was with, whether she knew Cassie, whether she'd seen her the other day, or when she'd seen her last. Then whether she knew who'd been with her, if she saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. 

“Well, you see, Detective”, she started replying to the question whether she’d noticed anything extraordinary. She sat up on her bed, obscenely spreading her legs, while acting like she was thinking really hard about what to answer. “You know I can focus better...with a little stimulation”, she went on, putting two of her fingers into her mouth and licked on them lewdly, before trailing her hand down her own torso until she reached the hem of her tiny bikini bottoms. 

“Stop that”, Keith demanded brusquely, looking anywhere but in her direction and internally rolled his eyes. Why did she have to act like that? Why couldn't she just answer his questions? He really couldn't deal with this right now since his head was throbbing. 

“Why?”, she replied almost innocently as Keith saw her dipping a finger inside her bikini pants out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Because one of your damn colleagues was murdered and I'm trying to figure out who the fuck's responsible for that”, he meant, sounding meaner than intended. 

He walked over to the window and stared out of it onto the incredibly interesting grey wall of the opposite building, trying not to focus on the dull pain in his brains. Apparently him just brushing her off like that and not giving her the attention she'd hoped for, seemed to help. Keith was relieved about that and told himself to simply handle such situations like he just did, then everything would be alright. 

At least she started talking in a normal voice to him then and actually gave some interesting answers. She reported that while she was preoccupied with her own client, she’d heard some sobbing and yelling coming from Cassie's room. However, she mused that this sometimes happened, so she didn't think anything more of it. Unfortunately, she also hadn't seen whom Cassie had been with, which made Keith sigh a little, but he still noted everything down. 

This interrogation process went on for a couple more hours and cost him a lot of nerves. Some of the girls were afraid, some really shocked, some even crying and screaming. He didn't really know how to properly react to any of that, so all he did most of the time, was standing or leaning there, having a smoke, while the girls tried to calm down again and he just offered the one or other consoling word. There was another girl who tried flirting with him a little, but gave up pretty quickly as he just kept asking her the questions without reacting to what she was saying and doing. Keith already started to get frustrated because apparently nobody had seen or heard anything, until he talked to the Asian looking girl, who introduced herself as Tao. 

“I saw her downstairs with some guy. I don't know for sure if he went upstairs with her because I was busy dancing at the time...but after a while both of them were gone. So it could be that she took him to her room”, she told him. 

“How did he look like, do you remember?”, Keith wanted to know. “And at what time did you see them together?”

“Oh god...it must have been...4:30pm? Around 4:30pm, I guess?”, she mused and Keith noted this down, pleased to hear that the timeline could fit with what the pathologist had found out, according to what Murphy had told him on the drive to the brothel. 

“Can you describe him?”, he encouraged her to go on. 

“He was...I'm not good at guessing...but probably between 40 and 50? He was bald, had a dark mustache and was wearing glasses. But apart from that, I honestly don't know.”

“How tall was he? Do you remember what he was wearing? Was he thin or fat or muscular?”, Keith went on asking.

“He was sitting, so I cannot tell how tall he was...but he was wearing a dark jacket. He wasn't fat...rather normal? He looked well groomed, I guess…”, she remembered.

“Have you ever seen him here before?”

“Not that I remember”, she replied. 

“Alright, thanks. Is there anything else you can think of that could be helpful?”

“I really don't know...no, I cannot think of anything else right now”, she meant, looking like she honestly was trying to remember.

“It's okay, you were quite helpful so far”, he returned with a quick smile. “In case you can recall anything else that might be of importance, just call at the police station, alright?”, he added and handed her a piece of paper with the telephone number on it. 

After he'd talked to Tao, there was no one else left to go to, but Mick. Before he went down the floor to his room, he pulled out another cigarette and lighted it, taking some long drags. A glance at his watch told him that it was shortly after 5:30pm by now and since he hadn't eaten all day, he started to get hungry. His headache was finally gone and he didn't feel hungover anymore, so he contemplated to just leave right now and get some food, but then he decided that he could do that after talking to Mick. Hopefully it wouldn't take that long. He stomped out the cigarette on the floor and then walked over to the last door, knocking on it. 

This day, Mick was dressed in the same skintight black leather pants as the day before, and a dark, see-through shirt that was more than halfway unbuttoned, revealing his well defined upper body. He was barefoot and around his neck he'd wrapped a black and white silk scarf. As he saw Keith, a smile crept onto his face and even though Keith wanted to keep his distance, he couldn't help himself but return it. He'd feared that seeing Mick again, after he all but fled the other night, would feel more awkward, but it didn't and he was glad about it. Hopefully it would help with the interrogation. 

“Hi, handsome”, Mick said in his soft voice. “I didn't think I'd see you again this soon.”

“I’m just here to ask some more questions about Cassie”, Keith clarified. 

“Do you want to come in?”, Mick asked, stepping aside. For a moment, Keith hesitated, thinking that maybe this wasn't a good idea, but he just told himself to act cool, like he did with bikini girl. 

“Do you want a drink?”, Mick wanted to know, standing by his mini fridge as Keith walked through the room to the window and leaned his back against the window still, pulling out his notebook.

“No”, he simply replied and swore to himself that this day he wouldn't give in. 

“Alright, then...what do you want to know?”, Mick asked, and for the moment seemed content to cooperate without trying to make a move on Keith. 

“When did you last see Cassie?”

“Yesterday...in the late afternoon”, Mick replied, falling down into one of the red leather chairs. “I was downstairs, checking out if there was someone who’d be interested in coming up with me...she was talking to some guy”, he told. 

“When was that? Can you describe the guy?”, Keith looked up from the notes he'd been taking. 

“It was...I guess around 4:30pm?”, Mick remembered, biting on his lower lip while doing so. Keith knew he didn’t do it on purpose, but it still made him look rather attractive. Just as soon as this thought had crossed his mind, he'd already banished it again, firmly scribbling down the time Mick had named. 

“He was a bald guy with a mustache...totally not my type”, Mick added unnecessarily and Keith bit on the inside of his cheek to restrain himself from making some harsh comment. 

“Black mustache...round glasses. Dark suit, he was well dressed and well groomed”, Mick went on describing the guy and Keith was secretly pleased that it fit together with what Tao had told him before. Probably this was a real lead here. 

“How old was he? How tall?”

“I only saw him sitting. I guess he was in his late 40s? But I'm not sure about that”, Mick meant, playing with the ends of his scarf. 

“Did you see him before?”, Keith wanted to know. It took a while for Mick to reply, apparently he was really trying to remember something.

“As a matter of fact, I did, yes”, he said and Keith looked up, his interest sparked now. 

“Here?”

“Yeah...it was a while ago...actually, he came in with Henry.”

“Henry? That's the guy you were with?”, Keith asked further. 

“Exactly...the rough one”, Mick clarified and averted his gaze. 

“When was that, do you remember?”, he went on questioning, while making another note. 

“I guess...maybe two or three weeks ago?”, Mick mused, but didn't sound too certain about it. 

“Was this the only time you've seen him before?”, Keith wanted to know then and Mick only nodded, rolling the end of the scarf around his finger somewhat absentmindedly.

“How often does he come here...that Henry guy?”, he asked then, not looking at Mick but drawing lines in his notebook instead. 

“Depends…”, Mick replied with a sigh, sounding evasive. 

“A little more precisely?”, he prompted. 

“Uh...sometimes once a week, or once every two weeks. Sometimes once a month. Some weeks...two or three times…”, Mick said in a low voice, shifting uncomfortably on the red armchair. Keith noticed his unease and remembered the heavy bruising on his neck. 

“What about your neck? Does he hurt you?”, he asked quietly and realised for the first time, that also Cassie's neck had been black and blue. 

“It's just...how he likes it...I guess”, Mick mumbled, he didn't sound too happy about it, obviously. 

“Can I...can I have a look at it?”, Keith wondered. There wasn't really any need for him to examine it, but he couldn't stop himself from asking. Maybe if the pathologist compared the bruises on Mick's neck to those on Cassie's, he could tell if the same person might have been responsible for them? He didn't really have any clue about the work the pathologist did or how any of that stuff worked. But it was just a thought and maybe it could help?

Mick looked over at him a little surprised, but then got up and came closer, pulling his scarf off. In the poorly lit room, Keith obviously couldn't make out any patterns. And he wasn't an expert on this kind of thing anyway. As far as he was concerned, there were just some dark blue and violet bruises on Mick's throat that looked quite nasty and probably also hurt. 

“What did he do?”, he asked and didn't manage to keep the concern out of his voice. 

“I thought you didn't want to know any details”, Mick replied, a hint of his flirty smirk back now. Keith noticed that Mick was standing too closely in his space and he could smell the sweet scent of the perfume he was wearing. It made him feel a bit dizzy in his head and he had to close his eyes for a moment. Though, he told himself that this probably was also just because he hadn't eaten all day. 

“I need to know everything that could be relevant for the case”, Keith replied, his voice low and he wished he'd accepted a drink because his throat felt too dry all of a sudden. He didn't want to hear these things. What this guy did with Mick. Seeing his bruised skin was proof enough that it couldn't have been too much fun for him. It also made him feel somewhat ashamed for just sleeping with Mick, right after that happened to him. Probably he should have asked him if he was still hurting, before he just went on fucking him. Mick's next words didn't really contribute to Keith’s conscience getting any purer, quite on the contrary. 

“He...he always does it the same way”, Mick started, not looking at Keith. “He...takes me from behind. Just...fucking real hard. He's huge and rough and...it hurts”, he went on and Keith clenched his fists, feeling anger rise inside him hearing these words. 

“He puts his hands around my throat and just...starts choking...once I passed out...I don't know if he just...kept going then”, he confessed and his voice broke, as Keith felt increasingly furious about what this pig had been doing to Mick. 

“You don't have to let him treat you that way”, is everything he could come up with, because he honestly didn't know what else to say. If that asshole was here right now, he'd probably punch the shit right out of him. 

“If I lose this job, I lose this room...it might sound insane to you, but at least I have a roof over my head. If clients complain too much about you, or you don't make enough money you're out. Jennings gets 70% of the earnings…”, Mick sighed, wrapping the scarf back around his neck. 

“Cassie had bruises on her neck as well”, it broke out of Keith, even though he wasn't allowed to talk about any details. But he couldn't hold it in after what Mick had just told him. If there was a chance that this Henry guy was involved in any way then he'd have to dig deeper into that. “Probably it was that asshole?”, he meant, more forcefully than intended and Mick shot him a quizzical look, but didn't comment on his choice of language. 

“He was with me from around 4:45pm to 5:30pm...I don't think that fits your timeline, does it?”, he replied instead. 

“Unfortunately, I guess not...but would you be willing to come to the station with me? The pathologist could take a look at your neck. Maybe he could find any patterns”, Keith explained, still angry at this Henry guy and what he did to Mick. 

If not for Cassie's murder, he wished he could frame him for anything else just so that he'd never get his dirty hands on Mick ever again. He realised that he shouldn't be thinking like that, but he just couldn't stop himself. Mick was a beautiful, gentle soul and Keith just couldn't understand how anybody would willingly want to hurt him.

“Okay...do I need to do this now?”, Mick wanted to know. 

“It would be best, I mean...the bruising is still relatively new. And I've got to get back to the station anyway”, Keith explained and Mick only nodded. 

“Just let me get some shoes and a coat”, Mick meant and Keith told him that he'd just go upstairs to let his partner know about this development and then asked him to meet him downstairs ten minutes later. 

After he'd talked to Murphy, who was really glad about the news, he went downstairs where Mick was already waiting for him at the bar. He'd put on some dark boots and a brown fur coat and was leaning against the bar, smirking as he spotted Keith. 

“Are you hungry?”, Keith asked him before Mick could say anything as they were walking outside and to the police car. “I haven't eaten all day and I'm starving.”

“Are you asking me out for dinner, darling? I thought you were taking me to the station”, Mick replied with a wink and Keith lightly blushed, hiding it by busying himself with starting the car. He couldn't deny that Mick was amazingly charming, even if he always exaggerated his flirtation a bit. 

“Well, sorta…”, he mumbled, while focusing on the traffic. “So, do you want to get anything to eat?”

“Sure, I cannot say no when a really handsome man is asking me that”, Mick smirked and Keith grinned a little to himself. He knew that he was just throwing half of his intentions overboard by not even faking to be annoyed by Mick's advances. But considering that he'd spent all afternoon questioning people and had even found out some new possible leads, he thought that it won't hurt letting go just a little. He'd only be buying Mick some food, what could possibly happen?

About ten minutes later, he stopped the car in front of a diner he used to go to frequently. They had the best sloppy joe's and the owner's son had went to police academy with Keith. He ordered a coke and a sloppy joe's while Mick had a cheeseburger and a milkshake. Keith had almost wolfed down his burger already, as Mick asked him why he'd chosen to become a cop. 

“My dad was a cop...sure, just a beat cop,...but as a kid I admired him and I just wanted to be like him. My mom freaked out when I actually went to police academy, because...it was just a year after my dad had been shot on the job. She was afraid to lose me too...but...I felt like I owed this to my dad, you know…”, Keith told him this truly personal story, not without his voice getting a little strained with sadness, because he missed his dad a lot and wished he could have been there to see him become a detective. He realised that probably he shouldn't be talking to Mick about such personal things, but he didn't really see how giving him this information would hurt. 

“I'm sure your dad would be proud. You're a good man, Keith”, Mick replied, giving him a little, encouraging smile. 

“How do you wanna know that?”, Keith returned, thinking about all the things he'd fucked up. All the drinking and the drugs and not putting his family first.

“In my job you learn to read people. I imagine that's no different in yours”, Mick only returned and Keith couldn't argue much with that. 

“How did you end up there?”, he changed the topic then. 

“At the brothel?”, Mick asked to clarify and Keith simply nodded. 

“It's a long story...see...I tried to adapt and fit in somehow...but...well, my family threw me out once they found out I'm queer...ended up on the streets and got into drugs. I really tried to have an ordinary job, but...there were some rough guys who figured things out. They beat me up…”, he told until he had to stop himself because his voice was breaking once again this evening. Keith gave him a moment to settle, while he just sipped on his coke. 

“Then I met Betty...she found me and cared for me. Without her...I wouldn't be around anymore. Betty used to work at the brothel...now she's just that really lovely and amazing elderly lady. She sometimes still drops by at the brothel and everyone just adores her. She's the most beautiful person I've ever met”, he went on with his story, an honest smile on his lips now when thinking about this woman. 

“Thanks to her, I'm still alive and I’ve got a roof over my head. Of course it can get tough, I wouldn't have chosen to do that...but it's the only thing I can do in my situation”, he finished and sounded resignated. 

“What about getting another job?”

“I tried again...a lot of people just wouldn't even hire me…and if someone did...it always ended up in trouble with some colleagues who started talking shit about me or even beat me…”, Mick sighed and Keith felt sorry for him. He didn't know what to do or say about it, though, so he simply stayed quiet, listening to Mick continuing his story. 

“At the brothel...nobody cares that I'm a guy who's taking up men to my room. There are a lot of queer guys among my clients who just have nowhere else to go. They aren't that bad…”, he ended his story, taking a long sip from his milkshake. 

Keith felt quite flattered that Mick had told him all of this, seeing that it was incredibly personal. He could totally understand his reasons and it made him feel really sympathetic towards him. 

“Can I ask you something?”, Mick wanted to know a while later, after he was done eating his burger. 

“You'd probably do anyway”, Keith replied, grinning slightly. Mick didn't ask him right away, but he looked like he was over thinking it and when he finally opened his mouth, Keith had the impression that Mick had actually intended to ask him something entirely else. 

“Are you currently with someone?”

“My wife left me over a year ago...I'm pretty much married to the job...that's why she left. Took my boy with her”, Keith replied, drinking the last of his coke. 

“How old is he?”

“A little over two years...haven't seen him in ages…”, he sighed. 

“I'm sorry…”, Mick returned and for a second it seemed like he wanted to stretch out his hand over the table to touch Keith's, but he didn't. 

“It's my own fault”, Keith just sighed again. “Are you done eating? We should get going”, he added then, because he really didn't want to get further into this matter. 

A while later, they were standing in the pathologist's office on the basement floor of the police station where the morgue was. Luckily, Dr. Traynor was still there because he was an irreformable workaholic. He was sitting at his desk, writing something. 

“I reported some first findings to Sergeant Allen earlier today”, Dr. Traynor mentioned as he was noting some things down.

“Yeah, Murphy told me about it. Did you find anything else by now?”, Keith wanted to know.

“I did, I'm writing a short preliminary record”, he replied, still without looking up from his notes. “You'll get it tomorrow”, he added before Keith could even ask about it. 

“Do you think it could be possible to determine whether the same person caused bruises by their patterns?”, he all but blurted out. Dr. Traynor stopped his scribbling and looked up at them for the first time. 

“Who is that and what is he doing here?”, the pathologist asked as he spotted Mick. 

“He's a witness in the brothel murder case. There are bruises on his neck and I thought...maybe you could just have a look at it? Compare them to the ones on the victim's neck?”, Keith explained. 

“Fine…”, Dr. Traynor said, putting away his pen and got up. “Let me see these bruises side by side”, he decided and then left his office to walk over to the examination room with the coolers to pull out the one where Cassie's body was stored. Keith and Mick followed him into the cold room, its air filled with decay under various layers of disinfection spray. As they approached the cooler, Mick stopped short in his tracks. Traynor had only uncovered the lifeless body down to her collarbones and was leaning over her, studying the bruising on her neck. 

“I...I cannot see her...like that”, Mick stuttered in shock, he sounded close to crying and his gaze was averted to the floor. He looked pale, and Keith couldn't tell if it was from seeing the dead body of his colleague or from the stink in the room. Even though Keith had been down here before many times, it certainly made him wish that he hadn't just eaten.

“It's okay. You don't have to look at her. Just stand over here…”, he meant, leading Mick over to Dr. Traynor but with his back to the cooler. “Maybe this'll help the case”, he reminded him and Mick simply nodded shortly, as he opened his coat and pulled the scarf off. 

“Take the coat off”, Traynor said, as he was done taking in the hematomas on Cassie. 

Mick got out of his coat and Keith offered to hold it for him, as the pathologist tried really hard not to look repulsed and disgusted by the way Mick was dressed. Keith acted like he didn't notice just so that he wouldn't be any more annoyed by Traynor than he already was because of the doctor's odd quirks and snobbishness. 

As the pathologist touched Mick's neck, he flinched away a bit.

“How about showing a little tact and sensitivity?”, he couldn't hold this comment back and glared at the doctor, while Mick just stared at Keith, not daring to say anything. 

“Whoever caused this...”, Traynor said, as if he didn't hear Keith's objection “...their stronger hand is the right one.”

“Can you confirm that he’s a right hander?”, Keith asked Mick, who only nodded. 

“Good”, Keith returned, giving Mick an encouraging smile because he looked all pathetic. 

“The bruising on the victim lets assume, however, that the attacker's stronger hand is the left one”, the pathologist continued and Keith mentally filed that info away.

“So, you can exclude any connection here?”, Keith wanted to know.

“I am fairly certain, yes. Also the person who strangled the victim, seemed to have somewhat smaller hands than the one who did this”, Traynor replied, gesturing to Mick's neck.

“The person who's responsible for this is a big, really heavy guy, am I correct?”

“Yeah…”, Mick mumbled, not looking at the pathologist. Keith could sense that he felt quite miserable because of that Henry guy and silently cursed that there wasn't any evidence to make him responsible for the murder. 

“Can I...can I have my coat back?”, Mick quietly asked then and Keith noticed that he was slightly trembling from the cold, wearing only this wisp of nothing see-through shirt. 

“Of course”, Keith meant, handing him the coat and Mick thanked him in a low voice. 

“Thanks for your help...just send us the report tomorrow”, Keith then said to Dr. Traynor, who just muttered something in reply, shutting the cooler with Cassie's dead body and then went back to his office, without a further word. 

“Can I get out of here now?”, Mick asked, he looked pretty uncomfortable. 

“Sure”, Keith returned, and they finally left the morgue and he dared to breathe properly again. “Are you alright?”, he wanted to know as they walked up the stairs to the ground floor and Mick only nodded in reply. 

“I've got to ask one more thing of you. Do you think you could sit down with a sketcher and describe Henry and that guy you saw with Cassie? Then we could have some artist's impressions of them”, Keith mentioned as they walked through the empty entrance hall of the police station. It was almost 9pm on a Saturday evening, obviously almost everyone had better places to be at. 

“If it helps, sure”, he gave back with a shrug. 

“Should I drive you back to the brothel?” Keith asked as they were leaving the station. Outside it was raining once again, but only slightly this time. It took Mick a moment to answer, they'd already reached Keith's car and gotten in, as he eventually replied. 

“Would you maybe...can I maybe come home with you tonight? I don't wanna be alone”, he asked and to Keith's complete surprise, there wasn't even a hint of cockiness or his usual bold flirting in his voice. On the contrary, he sounded outright shy. He knew he shouldn't agree to this. Especially not since Mick had information that could maybe contribute to solving the case. But even though he’d said he was okay, he didn't look like it. And Keith couldn't blame him after everything that happened. He seemed to be especially shaken about that whole thing with this Henry asshole, but who wouldn't? Maybe it would be good for him to get away from the brothel, if only for one night. So eventually, Keith agreed, hoping he wouldn't regret it later and he could swear that he heard Mick sigh in relief. 

They didn't talk much on the ride to Keith's apartment, only listened to the country music station and Keith was smoking a cigarette, Mick had declined one. “Here we are”, he said as he opened the apartment door and they both stepped in. 

“It's nice”, Mick commented. It was only a two room apartment with a kitchen and bathroom, nothing special. There was the one or other bottle of whisky standing around and there were still some dirty dishes in the sink. Obviously, his bed also wasn't made, considering the state he had been in that morning. 

“It's horrible”, Keith returned, snorting and Mick suppressed a grin. 

“It's yours..better than nothing”, he said, as they were just standing there in the living room. Mick was still wearing his coat, even though he'd opened it. 

“I guess”, Keith shrugged. “Uhh...do you need anything? Water? Want a drink or something?”

“I'm good, just tired...I...I couldn't sleep too well last night”, Mick admitted, as he finally got rid of the coat and threw it over a chair. 

Keith had to rip his eyes away from the sight of Mick's upper body that was barely covered underneath his much too revealing shirt. Getting just an idea of his abs and nipples through this thin, transparent fabric made him get all flustered. He felt his mouth turning dry again and he had to clear his throat, busying himself with scratching the back of his head in order to not think about wanting to touch Mick. Bringing him here, probably had been a really bad idea. Keith couldn't even try to explain why he was this attracted to him, after never even thinking about a man like this before in his life. There was absolutely no logic to it and being a detective, usually relying a lot on his logical thinking, this was what annoyed and confused him most. 

“You...you can take my bed...I'll just crash on the couch”, he brought out eventually, swallowing heavily and wished he could just grab the next best bottle of whiskey. Instead, he mumbled something about getting a towel and stuff for Mick. 

“Keith?”, Mick asked, voice sounding uncertain, as Keith was on his way to the bathroom. But he turned around, looking at Mick in question. He was standing there in his living room, all lost, appearing a little out of place with his too tight and too revealing clothes and big eyes framed with eyeliner. But above all, he looked sad and lonely, almost a tad anxious even. 

“Could you...could you stay with me, maybe?”, he finally dared asking and sounded really coy. “Just sleep”, he added, before Keith could reply anything. 

He sighed a little, because this probably wasn't the best idea. In fact, it might be an even worse idea than bringing Mick here in the first place. Then again, Mick was exhausted and looked like he really only wanted to get some sleep, so Keith just nodded lightly, before disappearing into the bathroom. He closed the door and went right over to the tab, splashing some cold water on his face to calm down, while telling himself that it would be alright and they'd just sleep. 

After Mick was done in the bath as well, he tiptoed back to the living room, where Keith was sitting on the armrest of his couch in just a t-shirt and underpants, staring out into the dark, illuminated by the thousand lights of the city. 

“Do you need pajama pants and a t-shirt?”, Keith asked him, as he got up from the couch, leading Mick to his bedroom, as he remembered that he didn't wear anything underneath these tight leather trousers the day before and blushed slightly at that memory. 

“I'm fine...I always just uh...sleep without clothes on”, Mick replied and his cheeks reddened a bit. 

“Of course you do”, Keith muttered under his breath, starting to question his poor choices. Probably he should go sleep on the couch after all. But he just lied down without saying anything further, facing the window, as Mick took off his shirt that barely could be described as one and then wriggled out of these damn leather pants. After a moment he felt Mick slide under the covers on the other side of the bed. 

“You can switch the light off”, he whispered and Keith reached to his bedside lamp to shut it off.

For a while, they were just lying there, both on the furthest edges of the bed, while Keith's heart was beating heavily in his throat. Even though he knew that Mick just wanted to sleep and he believed him, the fact that he was lying in bed with him, naked, made him somewhat nervous. He wasn't turned on, he just was confused by himself. For taking Mick home and for sharing a bed with him. Keith honestly couldn't say why he'd agreed to all of this, but the most logical explanation seemed to him that he felt compassion and concern for Mick. Otherwise, he really didn't know why he acted like that towards a guy he barely knew and whom he'd only met the day before. On the other hand, he felt like he probably knew more about Mick than most people did. He highly doubted that he went around telling just everyone about the things he had confessed to him earlier this evening. This made him feel oddly connected to him and protective of him, which Keith didn't know how to justify. Other than by the fact that he'd slept with him and enjoyed it way more than he should have, and that he secretly wished that they could repeat it. But he didn't dare to go there, it wasn't the right time now, he knew that. 

“Keith?”, Mick whispered, ripping him out of his thoughts. 

“Hmm?”, he only made. 

“I won't try anything, you can relax”, he said and Keith could almost hear the grin in his voice. 

“I am relaxed”, he gave back, sounding anything but. 

“You barely breathed in minutes”, Mick returned and he sounded amused. 

He didn't know what to reply to that, so he just sighed. 

“Mick?”, he asked after another while, almost thinking that the other was asleep already.

“Yeah?”

“Last night...did I hurt you?”, he wanted to know. He just had to ask him that after what Mick had admitted to earlier and after seeing his black an blue neck. 

“What?”, Mick returned a bit confused and Keith felt how he shifted and turned around towards him. 

“It's just...what you told me today about this bastard...how he...he hurt you. He was with you and later, when we...when I took you...did I hurt you further?”, he wanted to know, not without blushing and he was glad that it was dark in the room. 

Ever since Mick had told him about it and he'd noticed how he was always reacting to this guy coming up in conversation, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. He couldn't explain why he cared that much. Usually he wasn't like that. But Mick had something about him that made him become all protective. Probably it were just his soft features and his frail-looking body, or maybe also that beneath his bold and cocky exterior Mick actually seemed vulnerable and fragile. 

“You didn't hurt me, Keith”, Mick said honestly and touched his shoulder lightly. Keith shivered under the touch, sensing that Mick now was lying a bit closer, but he didn't turn around to face him. 

“I told you...I really enjoyed it. I did...you were careful and gentle...I loved it a lot”, Mick meant in his soft voice and finally Keith turned around to him, seeing the silhouette of his face in the weak light falling inside from all the signs and street lights outside. 

“I just...was wondering, is all”, he replied, biting his bottom lip. 

“You’re the most thoughtful person I've met in a long time...that's why I didn't want your money. You didn't make me feel like crap for once...sleeping with you made me feel like I wasn't just a hooker, but that you actually wanted me…”

“Because I actually wanted you”, Keith admitted, his face growing hot. 

“Why did you run away like you did?”

“The case…”, he sighed. It wasn't the whole truth. It might also have to do with Mick being a guy and that he couldn't explain why he wanted him so much. 

“I don't want to complicate your job...I know I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't have asked that of you. But I was just so...I really liked Cassie, you know. She cared about people...seeing her at the morgue…”, he stopped here and sniffled a bit. 

“It's alright...that's all on me. I should have taken you back to the brothel earlier, but I didn't”, he said. 

“Why didn't you?”

“I...I don't know, honestly. Because...I care about you, I guess”, Keith admitted almost coyly and now he could make out Mick crying for real. 

“It's okay…”, he tried to calm him down, wrapping his arms around Mick's slender upper body carefully. He was shaking with sobs, clenching to Keith's t-shirt, his face leaning against Keith's shoulder. He gently rubbed Mick’s bare back until his sobs died down eventually and he started breathing evenly again, letting go of Keith's t-shirt and draped one of his arms over Keith's side instead. 

“Okay?”, Keith inquired, still holding him close and Mick nodded against his shoulder. 

“Okay”, he mumbled, and pressed a quick, soft kiss to Keith's neck. “Thanks”, he whispered and Keith just smiled a little. 

“Let's get some sleep”, he meant and Mick nodded once again. 

“Goodnight, Keith”, Mick whispered, nuzzling his head against the crook of his neck. 

“Night, Mick”, he replied, wrapping his arms a little closer around him and like this it only took them a short while to doze off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got longer than anticipated xD there will be at least one more chapter, maybe even two. Hope you liked it, maybe let me know your thoughts...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I FINALLY managed to finish this story! it will have 4 chapters in total because I needed to split up the last one since I got carried away and it ended up being about 21.000 words long...  
> I'd like to thank my friend Trina for her input and for being basically the only one who actually loves this story because without her, I probably wouldn't have finished it, since I got a little discouraged and didn't really know whether people actually liked it or not. Hope you enjoy this one and the last chapter's gonna follow eventually...

Waking up the next morning was amazingly enjoyable for Keith. For once he wasn't still boozed and had a headache, but he was engulfed in comfortable warmth. He was lying on his back, one arm wrapped around Mick's slim body who had halfway rolled onto him, his head bedded on Keith's chest. Mick was still peacefully sleeping, his hand resting on Keith's ribcage and he could feel Mick's steady breath. He’d told him that he was 26 and therefore about five years younger than Keith himself, but just lying there, his hair a little disheveled and his beautiful face relaxed and carefree in his sleep, he looked even a couple years younger than that. Keith resisted the urge to touch his face because he didn't want to wake him. Actually, he just wanted to stay here like this for a couple more hours because it was pleasant and warm and it almost made him forget that there was a world outside this room, this bed, that wasn't nice and joyful, but dire and gruesome instead.   
It didn't take too long, however, until Mick started stirring and eventually, he blinked open his eyes, lifting his head slightly to look at Keith sleepily. 

“Hey”, Keith meant, smiling lightly. 

“Hi”, Mick replied, mirroring his smile and then nuzzled his head back against Keith's chest.  
“You slept well?”, Keith inquired, and Mick simply nodded against him. 

“Better than in ages…”, he mumbled and smiled at him again. 

Keith couldn't stop himself from cupping his cheek with a hand, caressing it a little and Mick leaned into his touch, sighing contently. He didn't know where this urge to touch him was coming from, but he was glad to see that Mick seemed to enjoy it. He then turned his head and started pressing little kisses onto the palm of Keith's hand, before shifting up a bit, starting to kiss his neck and throat, up to his jawline until he ended at Keith's lips and captured them with his own. Keith lazily kissed him back, not able to think about any consequences, any morals, or remorse. He knew exactly that he shouldn't be doing this, it could be compromising the case after all. But Mick's lips just felt too good against his own, he simply wanted to enjoy this moment and so he wrapped his arms around Mick's back to pull him even closer. 

There was no room to muse about what they were doing, or why he let it happen. Actually, Keith didn't want to waste a thought anymore about the fact that Mick was a guy. It shouldn't matter too much, all he knew was that it felt amazing and he hadn't enjoyed anything like this in quite a while. So, he decided to push all the nagging thoughts away and to just relish the moment. They kept kissing tenderly for a while, hands gently touching each other's faces, or tangling in the hair, both exhaling little content noises. Then Keith deepened his kisses a bit, Mick gladly opening his mouth for his tongue to slide inside. As he trailed his hand over Mick's bare back and down his side, their bodies grinding against each other, he soon could feel Mick slowly growing hard against his thigh and he grinned into their kiss. Mick, however, suddenly let go of him and shifted away quickly, pulling the covers closer around himself.

“I...I'm sorry…”, Mick stammered, avoiding his gaze and rolled around, his back facing Keith. 

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?”, he wanted to know a little concerned, propping himself up and leaned his head onto his arm. He'd expected anything but this reaction from Mick and didn't understand where it was coming from. 

“We shouldn't…”, Mick mumbled, sighing a little. 

“You don't need to worry about the case...it's...it's all on me”, Keith explained, trying to grasp for something that could have put Mick off like that, but he shook his head.

“It's not that…”, he sighed again, pressing a hand onto his face. “I...I don't want this to seem like...like an obligation...just because you treated me nicely and now it feels like I should give something back…”, Mick finally managed to explain and turned around again, although not looking him in the eyes. He was nestling at the edges of the blanket, looking pretty nervous. 

“I didn't...it never even occurred to me...I'd never ask anything of you that you didn't want to”, Keith objected almost shocked and he was taken aback even further by Mick's next words. 

“Don't you only want me because of what I am and because you think that you can easily have me?” His voice wasn't accusing, rather a little confused and the look in his eyes was so hurt and unsettled that even if he felt like screaming at him for saying something like that, Keith didn't dare to. 

“No...god, Mick...I honestly don't know what to say...is that what you think this is? That I only took you home so that you'd feel grateful and then what, I'd expect you to suck me off as a thank you?”, he got out, incredulously. 

Keith really couldn't believe that Mick was thinking like this of him after he'd literally told him that he cared about him the night before. Although he couldn't quite define what that even was supposed to mean. He had to admit to himself, that he was scared to let his mind drift there and explore what exactly he'd meant when saying this. But what he was absolutely certain about was that, even though he was heavily attracted to Mick, he didn't want him just because he thought he was easy to get. 

“I'm sorry...I shouldn't have…”, Mick started. “I...I just...I'm sorry. For ruining this…”, he went on stammering and sat up. 

“You didn't…”, Keith threw in, but Mick interrupted him and now he just sounded shy. 

“Do you still want me?”

“What?”, he said because he didn't expect this question. 

“Do you want to pick up where we left off? Do you want me?”, Mick repeated, a bit more daring and finally looked at him. His gaze was intense, but there was nothing of his usual boldness or cockiness. He only seemed insecure and somewhat sad. 

“I only want you if you want me, too”, Keith replied, searching Mick’s eyes, but he averted his gaze, staring at the blanket. 

“I’m sorry...I need to get back to the brothel soon…”, he meant and sat up, reaching for his tight black trousers. 

“Mick…”, Keith tried, but he didn't know what to say. 

He couldn't comprehend how they got from happily kissing to this. Whatever this was. He didn't understand. Probably it had to do with Mick being a prostitute, he mused. Maybe he didn't know anything else and only ever experienced people wanting him because it was basically his job to be there, to look hot, and always be ready to fuck. Maybe he couldn't believe that there was anyone who didn't just see a hooker in him. That there was anyone who wanted him, but not just because he was readily available, and they paid for it. But simply because they enjoyed being with him and needed him to want them back for real, and not just because it was an act for money. 

“What?”, he wanted to know as he slipped into this shred he called a shirt. He still was avoiding to directly look at him, so Keith also just stared at his own hands instead, searching for something to reply. 

“Can I drive you there? I need to talk to Tao, anyway”, he offered eventually. 

“Fine”, Mick shrugged and left for the living room to gather his coat, leaving Keith back in bed, completely dazzled.

 

They spent the drive to the brothel in awkward silence. Keith sensed that Mick wanted to say something and there were some things he probably should say himself. But he guessed it was for the better like this. Not to open his mouth. He could have told him that he enjoyed what they were doing, that he loved being around him. And that he wasn't only turned on by his looks, but simply being with him, just spending time with him, made him feel like he hadn't felt in a really long while. Understood, and accepted, and above all not so goddamn lonely all the time.   
But it seemed easier to him to stay quiet. It was the more comfortable way. Maybe this, just letting Mick go, each of them going back about their own business was the best thing to do. He had a case to solve after all, he should be focused on his job and not be longing for Mick. 

As they finally reached the brothel and Keith found a parking lot on the other side of the street, he stopped the car and pulled a business card with his office number and the station address out of his coat. Then he took a pen and scribbled his private number on the backside.

“You're still coming in to the station for the sketches tomorrow, right?”, he asked, and Mick simply nodded.

“Yeah, if you think it helps”, he meant. 

“Here”, he handed him the card and as Mick took it, their fingers shortly brushed. Keith pulled his hand away quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly as Mick stuffed the card into the pockets of his fur coat. 

“Just...call me, whenever...I mean if you remember something else, or...if that Henry guy shows up again. I wanna be informed, so I can come around and question him”, he said, but what he actually meant was that he wanted to know when this asshole showed up again, so that he could stop him, before he could lay his filthy hands on Mick again. 

Mick just nodded once more and then opened the door, ready to get out. 

“Thanks...for everything”, he said quietly, biting his bottom lip and stared at Keith for a few moments. He looked incredibly sad and Keith had to fight the urge to just lean over and wrap his arms around him in an embrace, although Mick totally seemed like he could desperately need one. But it simply didn't feel appropriate to him. 

“Take care”, is the only thing he got out instead, before Mick was gone, crossing the street on his way back to the brothel.

Keith stayed in his car for another while, smoking a cigarette and grimly staring at the steering wheel, angry at himself for all the feelings that were stirring up in his chest. Because he couldn't face any of these yet, didn't have the nerve to, he eventually got out of his car, deciding to do the only thing, except alcohol, that always distracted him: his work. 

As he stepped inside the brothel and walked through the bar and darkened dancing area downstairs, he neither saw Mick nor Tao there. Except for a handful of people sitting at the bar, there wasn't really anyone around yet. Which wasn't surprising, it was shortly after noon on a Sunday after all. So, he went to the first floor and knocked on Tao's door, hoping he wasn't unlucky enough to disrupt something. But as she opened the door, she pulled a nightgown around her body. Apparently, she'd still been asleep. 

“Detective”, she greeted him, a little surprised, obviously she hadn't expected to see him again already. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Actually, there is”, Keith meant, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you think you could describe that man you've seen Cassie with, in such a precise way that one of my colleagues could sketch an artist's impression?”, he asked. 

“Oh...I'm not sure...but if it would help you, I could try?”, she replied, and Keith nodded in agreement. 

“It's okay. We just need an impression of the guy, is all”, he meant. “Just come around the station tomorrow morning”, he added, handing her a business card as well. 

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Thanks”, Keith said, already turning to leave.

“Detective?”, Tao stopped him, and he looked back at her. 

“Did you already find out something?”, she wanted to know. 

“I'm not allowed to tell you that, sorry”, he replied, watching her face fall but she nodded in understanding. 

“See you tomorrow”, he said and without waiting for a reply, took the stairs back to the main room on the ground floor. 

Keith spotted Mick almost as soon as he got there. He was sitting on a bar stool next to some lanky middle-aged guy with curly blond hair, so close to him that their bodies touched. Mick had changed into some new clothes, loose white linen trousers and a black muscle top that was emphasizing his muscles, as he wrapped an arm around the guy's neck, leaning closer to whisper something in his ear. Keith hastily directed his gaze anywhere but at the bar and quickly walked through the darkened room to where the door was. There was an odd weight tightening his chest which made him gasp for air as he finally stumbled out into the streets and he clenched his fists, wishing he could just punch something. As soon as he reached his car and dropped into the driver's seat, he pulled the door shut way too violently and then hit the steering wheel a couple of times. It didn't make him feel better though. The ugly feeling of jealousy still was stinging in his chest, even though he knew exactly that he didn't have any right to feel that way. He was ashamed that he was feeling like this about seeing Mick with someone else even though he knew exactly what he did for a living. Keith was aware that it was ridiculous and imbecile and that he shouldn't have any of these sentiments, but he couldn't stop the burning sensation from making him tremble in anger and frustration. 

Actually, he'd planned to go into the station to work, even though he had the day off. But he didn't drive there, instead he went straight back home. He shrugged his coat off, grabbed the next best bottle of Jack Daniels that was standing around and let himself drop onto his couch, gulping some of the liquor down and then lighting a cigarette. It could have been a really amazing day. The way it had started out, it seemed perfect. Waking up well rested and all happy with Mick in his arms. But then it all went down the hill pretty quickly and he couldn't even begin to comprehend where everything started to go that wrong. Probably the night before when he took Mick home. Or when they laid in bed together and had their heartfelt talks. Probably already before that, when he didn't act like a professional, but instead let himself get carried away and slept with him. This in itself wouldn't have been too bad, he figured, taking another long sip of whiskey, the sting of the alcohol in his throat being the only thing that could drown out the pain in his chest. After all he'd slept with quite some hookers before just for fun, just for distraction. And he'd never ended up like this before, because usually it was just sex, nothing more and nothing less. Only now, with Mick, it was entirely something else. Having all these emotions because of Mick made him feel incredibly stupid and silly. He couldn't believe and didn't want to accept that he was falling for a hooker. It appeared outright ridiculous to him. But it was the only logical explanation for it all. In order to not have to further think about any of it, Keith took some more long gulps from the whiskey bottle, hoping it would make its impact soon. 

 

When he next regained consciousness, it was dark outside, and he had to squeeze his eyes in order to see the dial of his watch in the hollow light sweeping in from outside. It was shortly after 2am and his skull was almost bursting. All drowsy and sozzled he tiptoed into the kitchen to pour some tap water and swallowed an aspirin. Then he tumbled over to his bedroom and fell down onto his bed, not able to take any of his clothes off or to even slip underneath the blanket. His face was pressed into the pillow that Mick had used the night before and he could swear that he was still smelling the perfume he'd been wearing. If he wasn't too sleepy and his head wasn't already threatening to explode, he'd probably go right back to drinking. But as it was, he just grabbed the pillow and tossed it onto the floor before passing out again. 

He had no clue how he managed to wake up in time for work the next morning. But thanks to the aspirin his head only felt a little dull and after a quick shower and a cup of coffee and his morning cigarette, he even felt relatively lively. Except for the fact that he wasn't really in the mood to do anything. If it was up to him, he'd just stayed in bed. But he didn't want to risk that Murphy would have to show up at his doorstep yet again to drag him into work. He wouldn't ever let him live that down. So, he rode over to the station and arrived there even before Murphy, who showed up ten minutes later with a box of donuts. 

“Here, have a donut...you look like crap, buddy, what happened?”, Murphy meant as he passed by Keith's desk and shot him a concerned look. 

“Didn't sleep well”, he mumbled, taking a donut even though he wasn't particularly feeling like it, but he hadn't eaten anything in ages and probably the sugar would help as well. 

“You gotta cut down on the drinks, pal”, Murphy told him in a low voice, laying a hand on his shoulder and pressed it lightly. 

“I didn't drink…”

“Keith”, his partner replied in a voice that called bullshit. 

“I know...I'm trying, okay?”, he meant, not even sounding close to convincingly as he took a bite of the sugar glazed donut. 

“If there's something you wanna talk about you know where to find me, alright?”, Murphy offered once more, and Keith only nodded. 

“Did you read Traynor's autopsy report?”, he wanted to know then and Murphy agreed. 

“Did you type down the interrogations that you lead yet?”, he asked in return. 

“No, but I just wanted to...later two witnesses will be coming in for sketches. They saw the victim with some guy”, Keith explained, munching on the donut. 

“That's good news. I also found a witness from the second floor who could describe some guy she was with. But wasn't very clear about it, so I guess a sketch would be a waste of time.”

“Did you find out any more useful info?”

“Not really...they were all too busy for paying attention…”, Murphy sighed. 

“There is that guy...male hooker…”, Keith continued, swallowing heavily, as another sting shot through his chest while thinking of Mick. 

“Brendon or whatever?”, Murphy inquired. 

“His real name's Mick…”, Keith mumbled, taking a sip of the coffee he'd gotten from the small kitchen they had in the bullpen, and almost burned his tongue. 

“Whatever...what about him?”, Murphy asked as he started eating a donut as well. 

“He was with some guy, a regular. And apparently, he once came in with the man who was seen with Cassie...so probably there's a connection”, Keith told him, and Murphy nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Does he come in for sketches later?”

“Yeah, he recalled it quite precisely...I also asked him to describe the guy he was with...and...to call me in case he comes back”, he said, trying really hard to banish the picture of Mick's bruised neck from his thoughts. It only made anger rise inside him once more and he had to close his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. Obviously, this didn't go unnoticed by Murphy.

“You okay, bud?”

“Yeah...just some headache”, Keith lied, his head felt fine for once. 

“Cut down on the drinks, it'll help”, Murphy repeated, and Keith only sighed. 

“Well thought, though. Let's see what he tells us later”, Murphy added then regarding the case and already turned to walk over to his own desk, a few meters to Keith's left. 

“Murph? Can you...can you be with him during the sketching and ask the questions? I...I got all these reports to do...”, Keith asked, even though he wasn't that busy, but he just couldn't stand to see Mick today. He mused that it probably was best not seeing him again at all, if it didn't necessarily need be due to the case. 

“Alright, sure”, Murphy just replied with a nod. 

“Thanks, pal”, Keith meant, smiling lightly in relief. 

 

Tao showed up at the station a few hours later and Keith was glad that she hadn't decided to come in together with Mick. It would have been impractical anyway because one of them would have had to wait while the other described that man to Jackson, the sketcher. Luckily this wasn’t the case, though, and Keith walked over to greet her and led her outside the bullpen over the floor into a separate office. 

“Hi, Jackson...that's one of the witnesses in the brothel murder case. She's here to describe a possible suspect”, Keith explained to his colleague, while he gestured for Tao to sit down. 

For the next hour or so, with Tao's help they tried to reconstruct the face of the man Cassie had been with before her death. Tao repeated everything she'd already told to Keith before and tried really hard to remember any more details. In the end they had a sketch with a first impression of that man. It wasn't much and they wouldn't be able to use it for manhunt like that, because it was too unspecific. He literally could be anybody. But this hadn't been the goal in the first place, they just needed some place to start and having this sketch was better than nothing at all. Maybe later Mick's description of the guy could help to draw a clearer picture that would give them a better idea of who he was. 

When Tao was done with her description and had left again, Keith went back to the boring and somewhat tiring task of typing down the interviews on the typewriter. It was annoying work and the worst part about it was that one didn't have to think much while doing it, but at the moment this was alright, since he felt somewhat tired and even though his head wasn't aching, he couldn't really think sharply. 

It was after lunch break when Mick appeared at the station. Keith noticed him, as soon as he stepped foot into the bullpen. In his brown fur coat, he looked utterly out of place between all the policemen in their uniforms, or white shirts, as he was just standing by the door, letting his gaze wander through the large room full of desks and working cops. Keith quickly got up and hurried over to Murphy's desk.

“The second witness is here”, he informed him, as Murphy was typing almost aggressively on his typewriter. That's how he always worked, though, so Keith wasn't worried, only for the typewriter. 

“Can you bring him over to Jackson? I still need a moment”, Murphy meant without looking up and Keith tried hard not to sigh in frustration. 

“Yeah...sure”, he just replied and then walked over to where Mick was still standing, looking quite lost. 

As he spotted Keith approaching, Mick's face visibly lightened up and Keith had a hard time keeping his own expression straight. There was no way he could slip up and let it show, right in front of all of his colleagues, that he was far more familiar with Mick than it was appropriate for a detective and a possible witness. It was a clear conflict of interests and Keith was aware that he'd get into a hell of a lot of trouble if anyone found out about just how intimately he knew Mick. 

“Hi”, Mick said smiling lightly as Keith was close enough and he couldn't hide a tiny smile tugging at his lips. 

“Hi. Follow me, I'll show you the way to the sketcher's office”, Keith returned, all business on the outside, while internally he was scolding himself for having such a weak spot for this man. Mick made him go all soft and caring and he'd have loved to ask him whether he was alright, but instead he just walked through the bullpen two steps ahead of him. He didn't say a word as they crossed the floor outside and they reached Jackson's office. 

“Just wait here for a moment, my partner will be here shortly for the sketching process”, Keith explained neutrally, and a confused look appeared on Mick's face. 

“Won't you be there?”, he wanted to know, looking at Keith somewhat insecure. 

“I have other things to do”, Keith only offered in reply, as he noticed in relief that Murphy was already making his way over to them. 

“I'll see you around”, he added, not leaving Mick any chance to reply, before going back into the bullpen as Murphy held the door open for him. 

Back at his desk, Keith let out a heavy sigh and wished he'd stashed a bottle of whiskey somewhere because he sure could use a drink right now. Instead he just gulped down his cold coffee, grimacing in disgust. He was clearly aware of the fact that he should better stay as far away from Mick as possible. It was the only reasonable and right thing to do. Yet, he felt the strong desire to wait for Mick, until he was done with his descriptions, and then just bring him out of here, so that he could finally hold him close again. But obviously this was the last thing he could actually do and so he just grabbed his empty mug, angrily stomping over to the kitchen to get some fresh coffee.

Mick left almost two hours later, and Keith had to drag his eyes away from him in order to not stare after him as he passed through the bullpen. He’d busied himself with typing some things, but he barely had managed to do anything the past two hours. His thoughts inevitably had always wandered back to Mick and he felt himself become increasingly frustrated and angry. For behaving like a stupid schoolboy who fell for a beautiful girl for the very first time. Because that's exactly what he felt like and it just seemed absolutely ridiculous to him, he was a grown man after all. He simply couldn't find a single logical reason why he was reacting to Mick like this, but then again, he had to admit to himself, that feelings and attraction never worked logically. It only frustrated him, though, so he ended up typing in slow motion or staring out of the window. One of his colleagues noticed, but he didn't say anything. Only as Murphy came back after the sketching and looked over to Keith from his desk, he realized that something was up. 

“How's the reporting doing, bud?”, he asked him, as he came over to stand next to Keith's desk. 

“It's going…”, he only returned, staring at his typewriter. 

“How many did you finish?”

“I don't know”, Keith meant, not looking up at his partner. It were four out of ten, three of them he'd managed in the morning. 

“What's up with you, Keith?”, Murphy wanted to know and sounded honestly concerned. 

“Nothing, I'm just tired”, he lied, adjusting the paper in the typewriter. 

“Tell you what, pal. Give me another hour to finish up some stuff and then we're going to grab some dinner together, alright? And you’ll tell me what's going on, okay?”, he suggested in a light, encouraging tone and Keith simply nodded because he didn't need a discussion right now in front of everyone. 

A bit over an hour later, they were sitting in a diner close to the station that they oftentimes went to during lunch break. Keith had ordered a hamburger, but he only was nibbling on the side of French fries. 

“Is it because of Jane and your boy?”, Murphy just took a guess, as he’d halfway eaten his own burger already. Keith only shook his head. He hadn't thought about his ex-wife in a while. But it was obvious that Murphy would figure something was going on on that front. The last time Keith had been all grumpy and back to heavily drinking was when he called over at Jane's parents’ house in Florida for her birthday a couple months ago just to be told that she didn't want to talk to him and that she was with someone new, a school teacher, now. Keith had hung up in anger, bitterly thinking that at least that guy had clearly defined working hours, before starting to hit the bottle. 

“You aren't doing drugs again, are you?”, Murphy went on asking, sounding somewhat alarmed. 

“Haven't touched that shit in almost half a year, man”, Keith replied, sipping on his cola. He'd rather wanted to order something with alcohol in it but was sure that Murphy would only have judged him and talked him out of it. 

“Is it something about this case? I thought you seemed to be doing alright recently, buddy. It's just ever since we’ve been working on this...you've been a bit out of it”, Murphy meant next, taking another bite of his burger. 

“Look, Murph...I appreciate that you care, alright? But...I just don't wanna talk about it, okay?”, Keith gave back, sounding grumpy. 

“Whatever you say, man...but if this...whatever it is you don't want to talk about...is affecting this case, or our work, then I cannot just stand by and watch, understood?”, Murphy said, looking at him seriously and Keith just nodded before finally taking a bite from his burger. 

“How did the sketches turn out?”, he wanted to know then. 

“Well enough...could have been worse. I mean, just have a look at them tomorrow. All we can do now, is hope that one of these guys will show up at the brothel again, preferably the one who was with the victim…”, Murphy returned between chewing down his food. 

“I'll go back to the brothel tomorrow and hand out flyers with the sketches. So, everyone knows whom we're looking for”, he added. 

“Do you want me to join you?”, Keith asked and wasn't quite sure whether he rather wanted to go back there or stay as far away from the brothel as possible. 

“Nah, I can do that by myself...you got some reports to finish up, don't you?”, Murphy answered. On one hand, Keith was relieved about this because that way he couldn't randomly run into Mick. Or even worse, see him with some guy. On the other hand, a part of him had hoped to accompany Murphy to the brothel just for a chance to see Mick again. But it was probably for the best like this. 

 

The following days, Keith was mostly bound to work at the station. Finishing the reports was on top of his list. Then he also had to conduct some interrogations with a couple of new witnesses in another, older murder case, that they'd been working on for the past two months already. Now there probably was a new lead that they had to follow.   
For the sole reason to not give Murphy any more ground for speculation and worries about him, Keith pulled himself together and only focused on his job. While at the station, he went into work mode and did whatever he could to do his job the best way possible. In the evenings, however, after returning home from the station, he was left alone with his nagging thoughts and the burning longing for Mick. Not so much for his body, but especially for his company. He would simply lie on the couch with him, listening to the radio, drive around the city in his car with Mick in the passenger seat, sit in the kitchen together and have pancakes, if only that was possible and meant he could spend time with him… In order to not succumb to the bottle too easily, Keith stayed at the station longer and longer, until one evening, he just fell asleep right there at his desk and one of his colleagues found him the following morning. Like this, one and a half weeks passed, with basically no news on the brothel murder case. Keith grew more frustrated about it, even though he was used to the investigations to some cases dragging along extremely slowly. But in his mind, this case was connected to Mick and whenever he mused about the case, eventually Mick would show up in his thoughts as well, if he let them stray too far. And when thinking about him, he always ended up frustrated and ready to drown in booze, because there was simply no way he could have him. It was wrong in so many ways, hell, it was illegal, even. But not even this could ease the longing he was feeling. 

It was a Thursday evening, almost two weeks after the dead body had been found at the brothel and Keith was pretty exhausted since the night before had been another one of these spent at the station. So, he decided to go home shortly after 7:30pm, which was relatively early for him these days. Most of his colleagues had left before already, also Murphy wasn't there anymore. 

Once he was at his apartment, he poured himself a glass of whiskey. Just one, he told himself, for all the hard work he'd been doing recently. But this ended up being an incredibly stupid thing to do. Because obviously he couldn't keep it at just one glass. It ended up being a couple and once he was pretty tipsy, he started having weird thoughts and even weirder ideas. And the only thing on his mind was Mick, it always was Mick. He desperately wanted to see him, absolutely had to go find him and talk to him. About everything that had happened between them and he wanted him to know how he felt. Mick needed to know. 

 

In hindsight, Keith couldn't recall what exactly had gotten into him, probably the booze had made him insane, but he'd ordered a taxi to drive him to the brothel. Once there, he first let his gaze roam through the bar and the dancing area that was full of various people, but there was no sign of Mick anywhere. That’s why he went upstairs to his room. Before he reached it, he stopped short in his tracks, suddenly panic rising up inside him. What if Mick wasn't alone in there right now? What would he do then? He didn't even want to think about it, Mick with some random horny guy who just wanted to fuck him. He angrily pressed his jaws together and clenched his fists. Probably he should listen first. He wasn't drunk enough to just storm in there. Instead, he stood outside on the floor, in front of Mick's room for a while, nervously dragging on a cigarette, trying to figure out whether there was something going on inside. But he didn't hear anything. Just from another room, but he didn't care about that. He stomped out his cigarette and then knocked on the door, his heart beating heavily in his throat, which made him feel a little dizzy. Or probably that was just the alcohol. 

As Mick opened the door, wearing nothing but some lose, light colored linen trousers, his big blue eyes seemed to grow even wider as he saw Keith standing there. The black bruises on his neck had faded to something more like yellow by now, but they still were clearly visible. 

“Keith…”, he just got out, looking at him in surprise and confusion. “What are you doing here?” 

“Do you ever wear any clothes?”, the drunk part of his mind made him blurt out, as he watched Mick blush.

“I...I was just…”, he started, but Keith disrupted him. 

“Oh...is this...is this not a good time?”, he asked, now somewhat insecure, his gaze nervously wandering from Mick's beautiful face over his shoulder and inside the room. 

“I'm alone”, Mick meant quickly, even before Keith could assess the situation further. 

“I...I needed to see you. Can I come in?”, Keith asked almost coyly, and Mick only nodded, apparently really surprised to see him. 

Inside, Keith fell down onto one of the red armchairs as Mick stood there, a meter away from him, just looking at him dazzled. He'd grabbed one of his long scarves, winding it around himself, nervously. 

“Are you drunk?”, he asked after a moment, where Keith just sat there, contemplating where to begin.

“It's not...it's nothing”, Keith replied, running a hand over his face.

“Well, you aren't sober either”, Mick just commented. “What are you doing here?”, he repeated, and Keith couldn't figure out the tone in his voice. It was a weird mixture between curious and defensive. 

“Told you already...”, he gave back, looking up at him. “Needed to see you...how are you?”, he added, watching Mick twirl one end of the scarf around his hand, as he just shrugged. 

“How am I supposed to be?”, he just replied, and Keith didn't know what to answer to that. 

“I couldn't stop thinking about you…”, Keith finally got out, glad that he'd drunk more than he'd intended to because otherwise he probably wouldn't be able to say all these things. Without drinking too much, he wouldn’t even be here right now. “I just...I cannot stand this”, he went on, sounding quite frustrated, nestling around on the armrest of the red leather chair. 

“What do you mean?”, Mick asked quietly but not without perplexity in his voice, while sitting down on his bed right next to the armchair. 

“How many do you have?”, Keith suddenly asked. Actually, he didn't want an answer to that question. He also was fairly certain he would never have asked this if it wasn't for the booze clouding his mind. 

“What?”, Mick asked totally confused.

“Clients...a day?”, Keith meant, without looking at him. As soon as this question was out, he wished he would take it back. He didn't want to hear this. 

“Keith…you cannot be serious...you don't want to know that”, Mick gave back, visibly unhinged and also quite embarrassed. Keith only sighed, shaking his head, mumbling a bashful apology. 

“When I brought you here...after I talked to Tao, I...I saw you with that guy at the bar...and...just the thought...that you...I know that this…”, he stopped, making an all-including gesture around the room. “This...is what you gotta do to survive. I know...but...I just cannot stand…”, he trailed off, his voice breaking, mad at himself for being drunk, and for coming here, and for asking this stupid question. 

“Keith...you know that I don't want to do this, right? I don't...it's just a job, the only one I could get and keep. None of this means anything to me...all that matters, is having a roof over my head and a place to sleep. That's all…”, Mick started explaining, sounding almost desperate and Keith felt really bad about having asked him that. 

“I know...I know, you don't have to tell me...I know that. It’s just...I really like you a lot, I do. And I know it's wrong...but...I just cannot get you out of my head”, he confessed, feeling tears stinging in his eyes, silently cursing the alcohol. It always made him so moody. Mick just sat there, listening, his mouth slightly agape in wonder. Probably that wasn't at all what he'd expected when he'd seen Keith in front of his door. 

“I've been sleeping at the station a lot lately...cause...when I went home...I've...you know, I worked a lot lately...and when I went home...I just...I couldn't stop myself from drinking...just to make me forget about you...I tried...I tried…it didn't work, though…I always keep thinking about you...”, Keith rambled on, fueled by the alcohol, spilling all his thoughts, his whole heart out. He couldn't remember when he'd last put his feelings into that many words, usually he never talked about these things, he sucked at it. Mick only stared at him, his brow furrowed, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

“I just...I had to see you...I just wanted to tell you that...cause I think...I think, I'm falling for you, Mick...and I know it's not right and I want to stop it...but I just can't…I can't stop thinking about you and I can't stop wanting you...cause you...you're the only one I don't feel lonely with...”, he finally got out everything that he came here for, not able to stop his tear-stained voice from breaking in the end. 

As he dared to look over at Mick, he had tears shining in his eyes as well, his bottom lip quivering, as he was fighting back his tears, apparently at a loss for words. 

“How...how do you know that...that you want me, when you don't even know me?”, Mick eventually said, a tear rolling down his cheek and Keith wasn't sure whether this actually was what he wanted to say or whether he just did because he was afraid. 

“Because I do know...I know some things about you...I know that you don't like your coffee black, and that the perfume you like best smells like vanilla and peaches...I know that you prefer blues music to jazz and that you hate that chick from the country station, cause she's annoying as hell...I know you only like smoking sometimes and you stopped taking most drugs, but...but you're still doing coke some days, cause otherwise you cannot stand this...and I know that even though you bought most of these clothes you got here for work...that you actually enjoy wearing some of these quite a lot. You like being a tease, cause you know what you've got...and you’d probably be vain, if it weren't for the fact that you actually are insecure deep down...because you feel lonely and you just want someone who does understand...someone who won't just leave again, but who'll stay with you and hold you…”, Keith went on, his head surprisingly clear as he was deducing most of these things, from what he'd observed, and what Mick had told him, and what he just knew, because he felt it too. All the while, Mick just sat there on his bed, his eyes wide, looking utterly surprised, almost shocked even. 

“Cause, I know that's why you left...when you were with me last week...I know you were scared that I didn't mean it...that I was just...just like everyone else…”, he closed, some tears escaping his eyes and running down his face. 

“Do...do they teach you that at police academy?”, he got out, apparently in awe and it made Keith chuckle for a short moment, before he shook his head, feeling more tears wetting his cheeks.

“How do you know?”, Mick then asked, so quietly and coyly that Keith almost thought he'd imagined it. 

Keith only sniffled, brushing some of his tears away and before he could even try to formulate an answer, Mick reached out a hand to cup his cheek and softly wiped away some more tears, while Keith leaned into his touch, wanting more. 

“It's alright...”, Mick whispered, running his hand over Keith's cheek gently. “You were right, with everything. I was afraid for exactly that reason...but I know better now. And I really like you too, Keith...quite a lot, actually”, he said softly, and Keith started grinning a little, still with tears in his eyes. 

This was everything he needed and wanted to hear, just some affirmation that he wasn't alone in this, that Mick actually felt the same way. He was so overwhelmed by his feelings that he couldn't do or say anything else, so he took Mick's hand, pulling it down from its place on his cheek and pressed some light kisses onto his palm. Mick smiled at him lovingly and got up to sit down in the chair with him, on his lap, embracing him tightly. Keith wrapped his arms around Mick's back, holding him close, just breathing in his sweet scent, both of them with tears running down their cheeks, as all the words they'd exchanged finally started to sink in. Just now Keith realized how exhausted and how incredibly relieved he felt at the same time. His mind was clouded from the booze and he wondered how he even had been able to express himself clearly, but at least he'd managed to spill it all out and as it seemed, it had been the perfectly right choice. 

“I couldn't just forget about you that easily, either…”, Mick murmured against his neck after a while and Keith shifted slightly in the armchair to be able to look at him, as Mick was sitting there on his lap, his legs dangling over one armrest and an arm still wrapped around Keith's neck. His eyeliner was smeared a bit, but he had a little smile on his lips, and he looked so amazingly beautiful.

“Because you aren't like everyone else...you are being so good to me...while all the others...they just want to fuck, even when not at the brothel, everyone I know just always wants that...but not you. You're different. And I noticed, you know…”, Mick admitted, averting his gaze in light abashment as apparently it was his turn now to spill out his heart. 

“What did you notice?”, Keith wanted to know. He felt quite dizzy, not just from all the booze, but mainly from being so relieved and happy that Mick was feeling the same way. 

“The way you're becoming protective over me, or how you're making sure I'm alright. And the way you treated me, when...when we slept together, you actually cared about me...or how you look at me and don't just see a hooker...I know you really wanted me when I was over at your place. But you just left me be…”, he explained, playing around with the end of his scarf once more as he slightly blushed. 

“You were exhausted...you went through a lot. It wouldn't have been right...”, Keith said as though this explained it all, feeling a little abashed at Mick's words. He was way too sozzled to have a conversation like this right now, it required a cleared mind. 

“Still…”, Mick returned almost inaudible, leaning his head against Keith's shoulder. “Thanks for that”, he added in a low voice and smiled at him softly. 

Keith couldn't do else than mirroring his smile, his drunken mind apparently too tired now to come up with anything more. He felt like he'd said so much already, way too much, and now he couldn't say anything else. His gaze darted from Mick's eyes to his smiling lips and he had to swallow, because suddenly his mouth felt so dry as if he hadn't drank anything the whole day. All he could think about in his sozzled state was that Mick looked amazingly adorable and lovely and he couldn't stop himself from grinning because he was so happy about this beautiful man, sitting in his lap, smiling at him as if he was the most mesmerizing thing in the world. 

“What's up?”, Mick inquired, his tone slightly amused, after a moment where Keith had just been looking at him, wondering if he should just kiss him. 

“I just…”, he started, not able to think clearly any longer, because Mick had shifted a bit closer to him. “I really wanna kiss you”, he blurted out and before he could do anything else, instead of replying, Mick already captured his lips with his own, kissing him tenderly. He felt warm, and soft, and tasted still like salty tears, while Keith kissed him back almost desperately, like he hadn't seen him in forever and had missed him almost just as long. Keith had his arms tightly wrapped around his slender body, pulling him closer, as Mick turned around to him, straddling his lap, one of his hands tangled in Keith's hair as their kisses started growing a little deeper. After a while they had to break apart, though, gasping for air, but they were still so close that their foreheads were touching, and they could feel each other's heated breaths on their skin. 

“I don't think this is wrong...because how could it be...when it’s feeling just good and right like this?”, Mick whispered quietly and Keith could only nod lightly, running a hand over his cheek softly. 

He couldn't reply to that, couldn't find any words and couldn't think of anything else, except that he really needed more of Mick, because he was just incredibly captivating. So, he leaned in to pull him into another long kiss, his hands starting to roam from his face down to his shoulders and over his ribcage to his stomach, feeling his well-defined abs. It made Mick lightly moan into the kiss, grabbing onto Keith's shirt, as Keith grinned in anticipation. But to his surprise and frustration, Mick pulled away then, stopping Keith's wandering hands by gently grabbing them with his own, holding them in place. 

“Wait…”, Mick mumbled, without looking at him.

“Is everything not okay?”, Keith asked, because he was slightly confused about this and oddly felt like having a déjà-vu. 

“It is, I'm fine...it's just...I cannot do it here like this…”, he replied honestly, his voice low. “I want you so badly, but...you're drunk and...and I…”, he stopped himself and let go of him a little to be able to look at him.

“Let's do this once you're sober, okay? And not here…”

“Of course”, Keith nodded in understanding, even though he was a little disappointed. But his head had started spinning anyway and he couldn't tell whether it was his excitement or the alcohol. But since it didn't feel too pleasant, he rather guessed it was the latter. 

“I'll call you a cab, okay?”, Mick offered, and Keith only nodded again, as he got up from his lap, walking over to the telephone that was buried underneath a heap of clothes on his desk. All of the adrenaline that seemed to have prompted him earlier, was washing off rapidly and now that Mick’s half naked body wasn't pressed against his own anymore, he only felt incredibly tired. His fogged out brain didn't even notice Mick making the phone call, the next thing he knew was Mick standing in front of him in his fur coat, holding out his hands to pull him up. Keith stumbled into him and grabbed onto his waist, chuckling a bit. The alcohol clearly was still making its impact. 

“Can't I stay here with you?”, Keith wanted to know then, one arm wrapped around Mick in a sloppy embrace. 

“You know you can't stay here, babe”, Mick replied, and Keith smiled at this term of endearment. Then he realized something. 

“You don't go back to business now, do you?”, he inquired, letting go of Mick to better look at him. 

“It doesn't mean anything”, he replied sheepishly, gaze directed anywhere but at Keith. 

“Mick, no, you can’t be serious…”, Keith started to oppose, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could he just be like that? After everything they had just confessed to each other? 

“Please, don't make this harder than it already is”, Mick meant, his voice pleading. 

“What's that even supposed to mean?”

“Keith, please…”, Mick started, but was disrupted. 

“No, Mick…”, Keith wouldn't have it and pulled out his wallet, taking out almost all the money he had in there, safe for what he needed for the taxi. “Here...take this. I was here long enough...and you won't have to do anything anymore tonight. Just sleep, okay?”

“Keith, I don't want your money”, he only returned, not even looking at the bills Keith was holding out for him. 

“Then come with me”, Keith tried instead. 

“What?”

“Come with me...get outta here”, he said, and he meant it. The only reason Mick had to live like that was because he needed a place to stay and this was the only one he could get. If he just came to live with him, then he wouldn't have to keep doing this anymore. Keith's apartment was large enough for both of them. 

“Keith…”

“I mean it, Mick”, Keith said and even though he could feel his head spinning a bit, he was being completely serious. Apparently, Mick thought differently, though. 

“You're drunk, you’re not thinking clearly”, he simply gave back, and Keith was ready to object, but he guessed it was unpromising. 

“Can we...can we talk about this tomorrow then at least?”

“Fine”, Mick agreed, and Keith wasn't sure whether he only did to appease him. 

“Let me accompany you outside...the taxi should be here already”, Mick added then, draping an arm around Keith's waist. 

“Could you please just take the money, though? Do me that favor?”, he meant as Mick was leading him downstairs. 

“Alright”, Mick only meant as they left the brothel. The taxi was already waiting a few meters down the street. Keith stuffed the dollar bills into the pocket of Mick's fur coat, before hugging him tightly. 

“Thanks”, he mumbled, his mouth close to his ear, before he pressed a quick kiss to Mick's cheek. 

“Call me tomorrow evening? And I'll come pick you up, okay?”, he added, as he finally let go of him. 

“Okay”, Mick replied, smiling. “Get home safely”, he added, and Keith simply returned his smile, lifting a hand in farewell as he walked over to the cab. 

 

Keith got up early the next morning, taking a long shower, not just a quick one like he usually did to get at least halfway fit after drinking too much. That day, however, he could barely feel that he'd had some glasses of whiskey the evening before, since luckily, he had remembered to drink enough water and to gulp down an aspirin as he arrived home the previous night. Or probably it was just because he hadn't been all too pissed for once. Either way, at least he could remember everything that happened quite clearly. The memories of his heartfelt conversation with Mick made him get a little flustered, but in the very pleasant way of a warm feeling swelling in his chest and spreading through his whole body. As he looked into the bathroom mirror after getting out of the shower, he was almost a little shocked by all of the stubble on his face and decided that it finally was time to shave, because he hadn't done this in at least four days. Since he’d woken up really early, he wasn't in a rush for once, so he took his time, applying after-shave when he was done and then stared at his clean-shaven face for a moment, a tiny smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. Eventually, he put on some new, clean work clothes, before brewing himself a cup of coffee.

Just by talking to Mick the night before, by finally confronting their feelings, Keith now felt more content than he had in weeks. Once again, the only thing on his mind was the other man, but in contrast to all the days before, where the thought of him had pulled him down and made him feel outright miserable, now he felt warm and enjoyable. 

Obviously, his great mood and neat appearance didn't go unnoticed by Murphy who seemed confused to see him all content and nicely cleaned up, not reeking like booze for once, after he'd been absolutely lousy for almost two weeks. 

“Did anything happen? You seem really fine today”, Murphy finally commented at lunch break, after he'd only observed Keith from his desk in the morning. 

“Can't I just be fine for no reason?”, he gave back, not without a smirk. 

“Sure, it's great, I was just wondering what might be behind it.”

“I decided to drink less...I didn't get pissed out of my mind for once...makes me feel good”, Keith offered as an explanation and grinned at his partner. It wasn't even that much of a lie. He barely had drunk anything all week since he'd been sleeping at the station a lot of the time.

“See, I told you so!”, Murphy couldn't stop himself from replying and made Keith laugh.

“I'm glad, bud”, his partner meant honestly and patted his back. 

“Yeah, me too”, Keith gave back, taking a big bite from his tuna sandwich. 

The rest of the day luckily flew by surprisingly fast and since Keith was already looking forward to hear from Mick, he finished pretty early. It was a Friday evening after all and he'd worked many long hours recently, so surely it would be fine. He had enough colleagues to deal with stuff if something new and urgent should be coming up.

As he arrived at his apartment, it was shortly before 5:30pm and he clearly didn't know what to do with himself, since he hadn't been home that early in ages. Probably he should just have stayed at work, at least there he was distracted. But then he realized that everything around was a huge mess since he'd barely spent enough time at home to even make his bed. Obviously, he couldn't have Mick over with his place looking like a dumpster, so he turned the radio on, listening to some Rhythm & Blues music, while trying to clean up his apartment as good as possible. He made his bed, put away all the clothes lying around, threw out the empty pizza boxes, and of course all the bottles of booze. Then he did the dishes in the kitchen and once he was done straightening up everything in the living room, he changed out of his work clothes into some jeans and a t-shirt. Just as he'd poured himself a glass of cola and lighted up a cigarette, his landline rang. He almost dropped the cigarette and dashed over to the phone that was hanging on the kitchen wall. 

“Hi, this is Keith”, he answered, already eager to hear Mick's voice.

“Keith? I really need you to come over here now”, Mick whispered through the phone. It wasn't at all what he'd expected. Mick sounded tense, almost anxious even and it made Keith's breath hitch in concern. 

“What is it? Are you okay?”, he asked, nervously dragging on his cigarette, hoping that Mick was alright. 

“Henry's here...he's in the bathroom right now...I gotta go, hurry please”, and with these words he hung up again. 

For a moment, Keith was just standing there, telephone receiver in his hand, trying to comprehend what he'd just heard and how to best proceed. His guts encouraged him to simply grab his car keys and drive over there right now, since he couldn't lose any time, because he had to be there and protect Mick from that asshole. But the logical part of his brain told him to calm down and think clearly. He couldn't storm into the brothel all by himself and confront that guy about the murder case. He needed backup, just to be safe and within the bounds of the law. He couldn't let his feelings for Mick cloud his judgment. Instead of mindlessly running down to his car, he called at the station, hoping that Murphy would still be there. Luckily, he was, so they agreed on meeting at the brothel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :)  
> here is the final chapter of this story! I'm a little sad it's over cause detective Keith and hooker Mick were really interesting characters to write, maybe I'm gonna do a follow-up oneshot or something, let't see...  
> In case you wanna read any of my other Mick x Keith stories, you can go check out "A Trip Down Memory Lane" (yes I am planning to continue this I just need some more ideas lol), "Christmas Baking" or "You Give me Something to Talk About" :) and I already have another idea in my mind, I just love writing for this pairing so much atm!   
> anyway, I really hope you enjoy this last chapter, thanks a lot for reading and special thanks to everyone who was nice enough to leave a kudo or comment, I apprecciate you guys so much! :)

Since Keith had the shorter drive, he arrived before his partner and decided to already go inside. He was aware that he rather should wait for Murphy, but he couldn't only stand outside, doing nothing, while that asshole was alone with Mick, doing who knows what to him. Just the thought of it made Keith so sick that he wanted to throw up and there was absolutely no way he could stand around on the street until Murphy finally arrived. Instead, he went inside, not even sparing a single look for the people at the bar and in the dancing area, and went up the stairs to the first floor. As he stood in front of Mick’s door, he realized that he neither had his gun nor any handcuffs on him, which he could have used in case things escalated. He didn't even have his badge, since he'd changed his clothes. The only thing he could do was hoping that all of these things wouldn't be necessary, and that Murphy would be here really soon for some backup. Without thinking further of it, he knocked on the door. Nothing happened, he could only hear some dulled voices from inside, but it was hard to tell, considering that there were all kinds of noises coming from different rooms. Since he couldn't stop himself from waiting only a single moment longer, not knowing what was happening inside, he simply grabbed the doorknob, turning it. It wasn't closed and easily swung open, revealing what was going on in the room, a sight that Keith wished, he'd never witnessed. 

Mick was on his bed, completely naked, kneeling on all fours, clearly struggling, while behind him, halfway leaning over him was a huge, grey-haired man. He was almost two heads taller than Keith, and probably three times as heavy, his fat belly poking out from his unbuttoned shirt. The trousers were lying on the floor, his underpants slightly pulled down, as one of his big hands was tightly gripping Mick's neck, who was obviously gasping for air. He hadn't entered him yet, was only about to, as Keith's arrival had stopped him. From where Keith was standing at the door, even in the dimly lit room he could see that this guy was more than just very well-endowed. Disgusted about that whole scenery in front of him, Keith didn't even wonder why Mick had told him that this guy hurt him, it was fairly obvious he would. 

Keith was way too shocked and grossed out to announce himself as police, too numb and too furious all at once. 

“Get the fuck away from him!”, he yelled at the huge fat man, as he finally could rip himself out of his stupor. The guy just stared at Keith in shock and wonder, quickly letting go of Mick to pull his underpants back up, while Mick looked at him, eyes wide in horror, one hand lightly rubbing over the mistreated skin on his neck. 

The next thing he knew was that he'd jumped at the guy, as if he wanted to tackle him down, while Mick screamed, terrified. The man was too heavy though, so he merely stumbled to the side, getting tangled up in his own trousers at his feet and fell against the desk. Keith didn't let off of him, but launched a punch at his face, long having forgotten about the case and that he actually came here to question that guy. After what he'd just seen, all he wanted was to inflict pain on him for treating Mick like that. 

“Who are you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”, the fat man got out, as Keith grabbed him by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt. 

“Get your dirty hands away from him or I swear to god, I will break every single one of your fat fingers …”, Keith shouted in anger, throwing another punch at his jaw. It only made his knuckles hurt, while apparently the huge man didn't even flinch. 

“Who are you to tell me that? I'm paying for this”, the guy snorted, almost smugly and tried to push Keith away from himself, so they started wrestling, bumping into each other and into the desk, knocking down some things, mostly clothes. The next punch was directed at Keith and it possessed a vigor he clearly hadn't been prepared for. He tumbled away, as Mick screamed his name, terrified, feeling pain sting in his jawbone, as he tasted blood in his mouth and his lip was apparently split open. But he didn't care about any of this, if something, it only made him more enraged. 

“I'm paying him, so I can do whatever the fuck I want with him”, the man ranted, and this statement made Keith so furious, that he jumped onto him once more, ready to beat the hell out of him. He landed another punch or two, but it didn't do any real harm, the other guy was simply too strong and too fat. 

“What the everlasting fuck is going on here?”, Murphy's voice sounded behind them, before he could think of doing anything else and in the next moment Keith was pulled away, falling onto the floor, as the big man yelled something about not knowing what was going on and that Keith had run in and attacked him without any reason. 

While Murphy was trying to calm the guy down, Keith picked himself up into a sitting position, as he felt Mick sliding down next to him. He was wrapped up in a light blanket and gently touched Keith's chin to examine his hurt face. 

“Are you okay?”, he whispered, tears shining in his eyes. Keith only nodded, it was nothing, he’d be fine. It took him everything, though, to not just wrap his arms around Mick and pull him into a tight embrace, because he looked like he desperately could need it. But he knew he was in extreme trouble already for attacking that guy and this only would make everything worse. 

“Are you?”, Keith returned, his gaze wandering over Mick's frightened face and his worried neck. He nodded slightly, but tears were running down his cheeks and it was obvious that he wasn't alright. 

“What the fuck did you do? Why didn't you wait for me? What is this here?!”, Murphy yelled at Keith next. He flinched, while Mick bucked away from him quickly, wrapping his blanket closer around himself. Keith had no clue what Murphy had said to the fat guy, but he was just struggling to button up his shirt and pull his trousers back on. 

“We're going back to the station right now to resolve whatever is going on here, understood?”, Murphy said in a tone that made very clear he wouldn't accept any objections, as Keith slowly got up from the floor. 

“Do I have to come along as well?”, Mick piped up, almost anxiously. 

“There's no need…”, Keith started, but Murphy disrupted him brusquely.

“I don't want to hear anything from you until we are at the station, is that clear?” Keith only replied with a short nod, averting his gaze to the ground to avoid his partner's angry glare. He'd seen Murphy furious and shouting at people many times before, but he'd never experienced him being that mad at him before. 

“No, we don't need you there”, Murphy told Mick after a moment of consideration and Keith honestly couldn't tell why he had decided like this, since objectively spoken, Mick was a witness to a police detective attacking a man. 

“Let's go!”, Murphy commanded as soon as the heavy man had slipped his shoes on, and he grabbed Keith by the shoulder roughly, pushing him outside, not even giving him the chance to throw a last view in Mick's direction. 

The drive over to the station was tense and the most uncomfortable situation Keith had ever experienced in Murphy's company. Neither of them said a single word and also the fat guy in the back of the car kept his mouth shut. Obviously, Murphy had advised him to do so until they arrived at the station. Keith just stared out of the passenger seat window, carefully licking his split lip with the tip of his tongue, which made it sting a little. His jawbone also was hurting a bit where the punch had hit him, but this pain was nothing compared to the rage he was feeling.

As they finally arrived at the station, Keith still hadn't fully calmed down and he only glared at everyone in a passive-aggressive way. Murphy told one of their colleagues to stay with the fat guy because he had to talk to Keith first before he could question him. They walked through the bullpen and then over to were some by now empty offices were. Murphy pushed Keith inside one of these rooms, firmly shutting the door behind them. 

“Care to tell me what the hell happened in that brothel?”, Murphy asked in a snappy voice, staring at him angrily. 

“Why didn't you wait for me?”, he went on questioning Keith as he didn't reply. “Why did you go up there and decided to sabotage our work by attacking that man? Have you lost your fucking mind?”, he now was screaming at him and Keith still only glared at him in return. 

“Tell me one good reason why the hell you did that!”, Murphy demanded. 

As Keith still didn't answer to him, simply because he didn't know what to say in his defense, or where to start even, Murphy approached him, pushing him back so far until Keith stumbled into a wall. He honestly had never seen Murphy looking this outraged, as he gripped him by the lapels of his coat. 

“Name me one good reason”, he repeated in a dangerously low tone. “What the hell is going on with you? What was that between you and the hooker? What, Keith?!”, at the end his voice was raised again from anger and Keith flinched, pressing his back further against the wall. 

“I...I had to protect him…”, was the only thing he eventually got out, not looking his partner in the eye, because he was afraid he'd only give him the chance to easily read him. 

“Why? He isn't your responsibility! Your responsibility was to wait for me and then go question that man...but instead you had to go and beat him up, what for?”, Murphy went on, not letting go of him yet.

“Did you see that guy? He's a disgusting pig...he's...he…”, Keith was stammering in anger and frustration, feeling tears sting in his eyes, mad at himself for not being able to keep his feelings under control. “He...he thinks just because he's paying for it, that...that he can rape him…”, his voice broke and while still directing his view onto the ground, he quickly blinked his tears away, hoping Murphy didn't notice. 

“This is none of our goddamn business...we're from homicide squad for god’s sake!”, Murphy returned, completely unfazed. “Why do you even care about that hooker? Your damn job was to question the guy and not to attack him!”, he was so outraged that his face had grown red by now and Keith actually started to be a little intimidated because he’d never experienced his partner directing all of his anger at him. 

“I just...I just care, okay...it's not...it's not right”, he stammered, not sure what else to say without giving away how much exactly he actually cared about Mick. 

“What isn't right is that you compromised this case, this is what's not right! What if the guy won't cooperate now, what then?”, Murphy blamed him.

“I'm sorry, alright? I know I fucked up…”, Keith said, eyes directed at a point above Murphy's shoulder, not knowing what else he could say. He was sorry for compromising the case but he wasn't sorry at all for trying to make sure that this asshole wouldn't hurt Mick once again. 

“Just tell me why”, Murphy sighed, finally letting go of him, sounding a little calmer again, as he took a step back. 

“I told you...I needed to protect Mick…”, Keith got out and watched Murphy's face twitch in an almost comical way as he apparently caught up on something, trying to figure things out. 

“You have got to be kidding me”, Murphy said after a moment, shaking his head in disbelief. “Please tell me that I got this wrong”, he added, staring at Keith, waiting for a clue that he'd missed something. 

“You fucked him, didn't you?”, he accused him before Keith even had the chance to say anything else. 

“What?”, he replied almost in shock. He couldn't believe that his partner had so easily read him. Maybe he simply was that good at his job. 

“The hooker…tell me I'm wrong!”, Murphy's voice had gotten louder again, as he only stared at him in utter disbelief. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me…”, he mumbled as Keith didn't reply anything. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”, he shouted loudly and smashed his hand against the wall right next to Keith's head which made him wince. 

“You're off this case”, Murphy only meant after a while where Keith still hadn't managed to find anything to give back. 

“No...Murphy, come on…”, he started to complain but obviously his partner wouldn’t have any of it.

“Come on? Come on?! You fucked that hooker and sabotaged this case, there is no way you will continue to work on it, are you fucking kidding me?!”

“I'm sorry, okay? Please, just let me make things alright again?”, Keith pleaded but it wasn't of any use, Murphy was too outraged. 

“You're a queer or what? Is that why your wife left, you're a cocksucker?”

“No, god, Murphy…”, was the only thing he got out, appalled at his partner's choice of words. 

“What's it then? You screwed him, didn't you?”

“It's not like that…”, he started but didn't get far, Murphy was simply too furious at him. 

“What is it then?? Was it worth sabotaging this case? A girl was brutally murdered, and you take the fact that it happened in a brothel as an invitation to fuck the next best hooker?”

“I messed up, I know that…”, he meant, almost meekly. 

“You messed up...god damn it...I cannot even look at you right now...go home...I don't want to see you here before Monday. And even then, you'll only do desk work. I won't tell the captain, because I don't want you to get fired simply for being a fucking idiot...but you'll do as I say, got it?”, Murphy decided, he looked kind of helpless by now. 

“Murphy, please...can I explain?”

“Can you?”, he wanted to know, and Keith actually wasn't sure that he could. 

“It just happened, okay? I didn't...I didn't intend to...I’m not gay...you gotta believe me, Murph...it just happened”, he started in a weak attempt, but Murphy disrupted him. 

“I cannot do this right now, Keith...whatever you tell me...I cannot...this isn't acceptable at all. I want you to leave now and we'll further deal with this on Monday, understood?” Murphy sounded exhausted by this whole discussion, but at least he wasn't screaming at him anymore. 

Keith only nodded, stepping away to the side, without even looking at his partner. He was so exhausted and frustrated himself by that conversation that he could barely wait to finally get out of this room. 

“Oh, and Keith?”, Murphy said as Keith already had a hand on the doorknob. “Don't even think about going back to that brothel. I’ll call there right now and tell them not to let you in. I dare you to see that hooker again and further compromise our work...I'll know about it and I'll get your ass fired, hear me, bud?”, he said in an almost conversational tone, but Keith knew him well enough to be absolutely certain that he meant every single word of it. 

“Murphy, please...please let me explain this…”, Keith almost begged anew, because he didn't know what else to do to persuade his partner otherwise. He could accept desk work and everything, he could even accept being suspended for a couple of days, but not seeing Mick? After what happened just hours before? He desperately needed to talk to him and make sure he was alright. 

“I cannot hear this now...get the fuck outta here before I kick you out”, Murphy just commented

“Murphy...please...I just need to know that he's okay…”, he returned, his lower lip trembling as he was fighting back tears, angry at himself for reacting like this. 

“Keith get out...I don't want to have to tell you again”, Murphy sounded utterly frustrated with him now. 

“Please?”, he tried one last time, biting down on his bottom lip in the hope it would stifle his tears. 

“What?”, Murphy replied annoyed and grumpy, but Keith knew he had got through to him. Deep down, Murphy was a good guy, no matter what. 

“Could you at least figure out if he’s alright? That's literally all I'm asking, Murphy, please…”

“Fine”, Murphy finally let himself get talked into. “Now get outta here, I won’t say it another time.” 

Keith simply nodded curtly and then couldn't do else but smash the door shut behind himself. He was beyond angry and frustrated about himself and also a little about Murphy. But mostly about his own wrongdoing. Keith was clearly aware that Murphy had stuck out his head for him there and it wasn't self-evident at all after what he'd pulled. Anyone else probably would have went straight to the captain and got him at least suspended, if not fired. Being forced to do desk work and being pulled off the case was nothing compared to what could have happened. Yet, he still couldn't stop himself from feeling that Murphy forbidding him from going back to the brothel to see Mick, was an unfair treatment that he didn't deserve. But deep down he knew it was clearly warranted and he shouldn't be complaining. Because the source for this whole mess was Mick. Or better said, his attraction to him. If he hadn't been so weak, so incredibly stupid, needy, and lonely, then probably none of this ever would have happened. Then he could have investigated in this case like in any other one as well, maybe they might even be one step closer already to finding the perpetrator. If he could just have focused his undivided attention on his job, like he was paid for, instead of getting seduced by a hooker and then falling for him, then maybe everything would be fine right now. But as things went, he just barely got away with not losing his job and this only thanks to Murphy putting up with all of this despite having the possibility to rad him out to their boss. He should be on his knees, thanking the man for standing by his side even though it would have been his good right to not only call him out on the bullshit he got himself into as he had done, but actually doing something about it to get him punished for it. But as it was, even though his partner might be hating his guts right now, actually he still loved him like a brother and deep down Keith knew this. 

On his way out of the station, he could feel hot tears streaming down his cheeks and he angrily brushed them away with the back of his hand. Never before in his life had he felt so pathetic, silly, and helpless. On top of it all, he realized only as he stepped outside into the pouring rain that his car was still parked in front of the brothel. Going there to fetch it was a detour he couldn't bare making right now, so instead he just waved over the next cab. All he wanted right now was getting home, having a drink, or maybe ten, and then lie down and not have to think about anything anymore, because he couldn’t deal with any of it. Not with the guilt about having fucked up so badly that it could have gotten him fired, not with the fact that Murphy, even despite being pissed out of his mind at him, still was sticking up for him in his very own way, and least of all with his thoughts and feelings about Mick. All he needed right now was sweet oblivion. 

 

When Keith next regained consciousness, it was late on Saturday afternoon, according to the digits on the clock at his wall that he could barely recognize because he was so boozed up. He'd been passed out for at least 15 hours and now he could barely keep open his eyes because his head threatened to burst at the tiniest impulse. His throat was dry and rough, his head throbbing, and he really needed to take a leak, but he feared that if he moved even one bit, he'd pass out again from the hammering pain in his brains. After just lying there for another couple minutes, at least he managed to grab the glass of water on his nightstand and gulped some of it down. Then it took him another while until his head had finally stopped spinning and he could roll off his bed, tumbling over to the bathroom. When he was done using the toilet, he shortly contemplated to get into the shower to try and get a clear head, but then he realized that he didn't need it and didn't want it right now, because it would only allow him to muse about everything that had happened the day before. So instead he just stumbled into the kitchen, getting some more water, before falling back onto his bed and passing out again shortly after. 

When he opened his eyes again, it was dark outside. There was only some stale city light falling in through the cracks in his curtains and he could hear the shrieking siren of an ambulance somewhere close by. The dull throbbing in his head had calmed down a bit but there was still a stinging pain right in his forehead, that made him press his eyes shut. Numbly he propped himself up on an elbow and reached for his water. Then he held his wrist in front of his face, trying to make out the time on his watch in the pale light shining into his room. It was shortly after 2am. Sighing, he fell down onto his pillows again, not sure what to do with himself. Actually, his back was aching from lying around so long and he barely was tired anymore, but at the same time he felt somewhat nauseous and feared that he’d be puking if he got up now. On the other hand, maybe he should eat something because he honestly couldn't remember when he'd last done so. It took him quite some time to finally pull himself together enough to sit up and fumble for the light switch while his head was spinning, and it appeared to him like his brain was pressed to the insides of his skull. Finally, he made it out of bed and into the bathroom, where he splashed some icy cold water onto his face and swallowed down an aspirin. Then he dragged himself into the kitchen, where he put some toast into the toaster while searching the fridge for anything to put on top of it. Some ham and mayonnaise would have to do because it was the only thing he had around, and he made a mental note that he needed to go shopping for groceries soon. After he'd wolfed down his meager meal and drank some more water and a bit of cola, he actually felt quite acceptable, at least for the condition he was in. His mind still was too fogged to have any clear thoughts, which suited him just fine, at least then he didn't have to deal with feeling even shittier about the things that had happened. He could simply stay in this clouded state, where everything seemed far away and couldn't touch him. However, his tiredness started to fade with every waking minute he was sitting around in his kitchen with nothing to do and the more level headed he became, the more desperate he started to feel. 

There was no way to whitewash his actions and he couldn’t even have complained if his selfishness and stupidity would have gotten him fired. He could have lost the job he'd sacrificed everything for, that he'd worked so hard to get, that he couldn't live without because it was the only thing he really wanted to do, and he really was good at. Maybe his ex-wife had been right after all with her accusations about Keith caring about nothing else than this damn job, about only defining himself by it, about only ever being proud of the things he achieved in this job. Because he didn't know anything else, never had. 

Though maybe being a homicide detective wasn’t everything after all. At least he'd frivolously risked his dismissal more than just one time in the last couple of weeks. Meeting Mick and sleeping with him was one thing, he could have dealt with it. He'd done this before, while on the job, while undercover even. It never had mattered, never even brought him close to having the hint of a bad conscience. But Mick, he had to realize once again, was an entirely different story. There was no way he'd dismiss Murphy's well-meant threat, because he was aware that his partner wasn't someone to easily fool around with. If Murphy had someone's back then he truly did and this was the only reason Keith still had his job, but if you got on bad terms with him, then you were done. In the game of good cop, bad cop, on first glance, Murphy always was the good one and Keith the bully. But on further inspection, the only things Keith did to frighten suspects into confessions, was to yell at them, slam his fists down on tables, grab the suspects, yank them around, maybe push them up against a wall. Murphy, however, was way more subtle in his techniques of forcing confessions out of people. He appeared to be friendly and like an overall good guy. But his psycho tricks were merciless and while Keith only had made the one or other bad guy whimper, Murphy had managed to make some of them break down in tears. 

Bearing all of this in mind, Keith clearly didn't want to risk fucking everything up even further. If Murphy told him to stay away from the brothel and not to see Mick, then he'd better listen to him, even if the urge to do just that was overwhelming. After contemplating his options for a while, eventually he had to give in. Maybe, if everything turned out well and the case could be solved soon enough, he could see Mick again. But before that happened, he didn’t see a way how to make this happen. Even if he was yearning for the slightest note of him. The chance of Murphy catching up on it was too high, though. Keith didn't even want to imagine what he'd told the people at the brothel during the time he'd only been lying around drunk all Saturday. 

Around 3:30am, he remembered that his car was still parked in front of the brothel and due to lack of anything better to do, he decided to walk over there to fetch it. It was just a little over three miles and he couldn't just lie down and sleep again anyway. Maybe a little walk would help clearing his mind even from the last bit of alcohol and make him feel better. So, he got up and changed into some clothes, before grabbing his car keys.

It took him a little under an hour to reach the brothel since he had been walking quite fast. By this time of the day, even though it was an early Sunday morning, the streets of New York had already started to grow busier again. But he didn't pay attention to any of the cars, delivery vans, people carrying newspapers, others walking their dogs, or being on their way from or to their shift working job. The only thing he'd set his mind to at the moment, was getting his car. Once he saw it at the place where he’d parked it two days ago, he simply should have gotten in to drive home. But instead, he just stood there in front of the brothel for a while. 

Obviously, it was closed at that time of the day. There was not a single window where the light was turned on inside, they all were dark and most had curtains pulled shut behind them. Keith's gaze wandered up to the first floor and to the window that belonged to Mick's room. There was nothing to see there, except darkness. For a split second, he got the mad idea to just call his name, in the hope that he'd hear him and look out of the window. But it was completely silly. Probably only someone else would be annoyed by his screaming and might call the police on him for thinking some insane or drunk person was disturbing their precious sleep. And then Murphy would hear about it and Keith would be in really deep trouble. Instead, he stayed quiet, just looking up there for another while, imagining Mick sleeping peacefully like he’d done when Keith held him in his arms. He wished nothing more than to be able to go back to this beautiful moment, when everything was perfect and completely fine. Before Mick had freaked out about his fear of Keith just being another one of these people who didn't give a damn about him and before they hadn't seen each other in a while. After finally getting the chance to talk to Mick last Tuesday, he’d hoped things would be okay and they’d somehow manage to be alright. But everything had turned out to be so much worse. And now he was at a point once more where he couldn’t see Mick yet again, didn't even know when he'd be able to finally talk to him again. Literally the only thing he wished for at that moment, staring up at Mick's dark window, was that he could hold him and make sure he was alright. Keith could only rip himself out of his rigor as he felt a tear escaping his eye and running over his cheek. None of this was right, he knew it. Not the fact that he'd compromised the case, not the fact that he'd fallen for Mick, and not the fact that he couldn't even talk to him now. 

Instead of just standing there and getting pulled further into the tunnel of his broody thoughts, he finally got into his car and then drove to the next 24h gas station. There he bought some things to fill up his almost empty fridge, because he had nothing better to do and he needed to eat something after all. Then, probably, he could better bear a new influx of alcohol. 

 

It was early Monday morning when the sound of someone knocking on his door ripped him out of a troubled sleep. He hadn't been drinking that much the other night and he'd remembered taking an aspirin, so now he wasn’t quite as dazed as he'd been all Saturday, but he still didn't feel well rested either. He didn't know who was standing in front of his door at 6:20am on a Monday morning, but wasn’t surprised in the slightest to find Murphy there. Who else would be insane enough to be up at that time even though they usually just started working around 8am? He was holding a bag of donuts and didn't seem to be mad at him anymore.

“What are you doing here?”, Keith asked, stifling a yawn, as he was standing there in only his pajama pants. 

“Good morning to you too, partner”, Murphy meant. “Can I come in, I brought donuts”, he added, without really answering his question.

Keith only stepped aside, and Murphy walked past him right into the kitchen. Instead of following him there, Keith stopped in his bedroom to fetch a t-shirt to pull over his bare upper body, before he vanished into the bathroom for a moment. As he came back into the kitchen, Murphy had already brewed some coffee. 

“What are you doing?”, Keith asked anew, falling down onto one of the chairs

“Cooking coffee”, his partner only replied, and Keith rolled his eyes. 

“No, I meant, why did you come here?”

“To talk to you”, Murphy said while filling the coffee into two cups. 

“Ah, I see...now you’re playing the good cop again?”, Keith commented, and it sounded somewhat bitter, even though he didn't intend it to. He knew that he only used his partner as an object of projection for the anger he was still feeling towards himself about how everything had turned out. Murphy just sighed, putting one of the cups down in front of Keith. 

“How about a ‘thanks, Murphy, for the donuts’, or ‘thanks, Murphy, for not getting my ass fired’?”, he suggested in a somewhat hurt tone and Keith had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He only sighed as well, sipping on his coffee. 

“Thanks, Murph”, he mumbled eventually, sounding not very convincing. When thinking about it, he actually was mad at his partner. For keeping him away from Mick. For making him feel even more miserable in this already shitty situation. “So, I get to keep my job?”, he added then, not looking at Murphy. 

“Of course, you do, you dumb fucker, that's why I'm here, I wanted to tell you how things went”, his partner replied more brusquely than necessary. 

“What about that guy...does he want to press charges against me for attacking him?”, Keith asked after a moment, calmer now, ignoring Murphy's insult, because he knew he hadn’t meant it that way. 

“Actually, you're the one who should have brought me donuts, man...I really put my ass on the line for you for that one…”, Murphy started, and Keith began to feel yet even worse about it all. 

“What happened?”

“I told him you were undercover to investigate in some drug smuggling case. And that you had to take some stuff yourself in order to keep your cover up. Said you were high as a kite when you just ran in there and started to beat him up and that we're very sorry that it happened but that it would be very kind of him not to press charges against you because it could endanger our investigations”, Murphy reported and Keith couldn't stop himself from grinning lightly. One had to hand it to him, Murphy was a clever fucker. 

“How did he react?”

“He bought the undercover thing, but what was odd, though, was that he seemed a tad too interested in these so-called drug investigations going on...that aren't actually going on”, his partner replied, and Keith furrowed his brow as he took another sip of his coffee. 

“So, you think he's involved into something?”

“Well, it got even better...his actual name is Garrett Henderson...from the Henderson logistic company who're running half of the city harbor, they make millions with shipping containers with all kinds of contents”, Murphy told him. 

“Interesting…”, Keith mumbled. “I guess him being involved in some drug smuggling stuff wouldn't even be that far-fetched then, would it?”

“Yeah but that's not our business to deal with…”

“What about that other guy? Does he know him?”, he wanted to know then. 

“It took some while...but I made him sweat a little about the drug investigation thing...I guess at some point he just thought that if he didn't at least try to cooperate, we'd get him for some shit”, Murphy replied with a grim grin. “He gave us a name, but he refused to acknowledge that he really knows the guy. Which is complete bullshit if you ask me...but since there was nothing else, we could hold against him, we had to let him go again”, he continued, before taking a bite out of a donut. 

“Okay and what do we do now?”

“We do nothing...you'll do some desk work, reports, catching up on old cases like the Ava Geller homicide…I'll investigate further with Wesley and Stevens”, Murphy said. 

“Fine”, Keith surrendered without even trying to oppose. Murphy had really done more than enough for him. 

“What did you tell the captain?”

“That you were high.” 

“Thanks...I guess…”, he returned, sighing. Having the reputation of being a junkie was still better than being that guy who fucked a male hooker. He was fairly certain that at least a dozen of their colleagues did some coke every now and then, even more so on Vice Squad. 

“Did you...did you talk to Mick?”, he dared asking after a while where they'd just sat there in silence, eating their breakfast. 

“I went to the brothel on Saturday, yeah...asked him some things about Henderson”, Murphy answered without really telling anything. 

“How was he?”

“Keith…”, his partner sighed. 

“What?”, he asked, almost snappy. 

“I'm trying to wrap my head around this, but I just...I don't get it, man”, Murphy gave back, looking at him almost in wonder. 

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you care so much about him? He's just a prostitute, god damn it...you love this job, why did you put your whole career on the line?”

“Cause, he isn't just a prostitute for me that's the whole point…”, he mumbled, not looking up at his partner but onto the half-eaten donut in front of him. 

“For god's sake, Keith, what's that even supposed to mean?”

“I don't just want to screw him…”, he started, but before he could go on, an appalled Murphy already disrupted him. 

“Oh, come on, man, don't tell me about that stuff...god...I honestly cannot believe you did that!” His voice was raised again, and Keith had to stop himself from glaring at him. 

“I thought you wanted to understand…”, he replied quietly, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug as if it could offer him some comfort. 

“I want to...but not if it involves you telling me about...that stuff”, his partner said, visibly uncomfortable. 

“The only thing I wanted to tell you is that I really like him, okay…”, he confessed, and Murphy just stared at him in confusion. 

“I like his company...I just want to be with him...I want to hold him and wake up with him next to me and things like that…”, he said in a low voice, feeling his cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. Usually he wouldn't talk about these things with Murphy, but he wanted him to understand this, wanted him to know the reason why he cared so much about Mick. 

“Don’t be pathetic, Keith”, was the only thing Murphy returned and just as he'd told him, Keith actually started to feel pathetic. In his mind it all sounded so reasonable and easy. It all was perfect. But in reality, obviously it was far from. Hell, he couldn’t even talk to Mick now if he didn't want to lose his job. 

“I'm not…”, he began to argue, at a loss for words. He didn't know how to persuade Murphy that what he felt for Mick was more than just physical attraction. Murphy was a good guy, but he was conservative in his views. He had clear moral values and stuck to them, no matter what. 

“You’re just lonely, we need to find you a new girl”, Murphy meant as if this was the solution to everything. 

“This is exactly the thing, Murph...I don't want a new girl. I want Mick…”, he tried to explain, frustrated by how Murphy was taking it, but his partner disrupted him. 

“This is ridiculous, pal...there is no such thing as two men being in love with each other as a man and a woman”, he meant and almost sounded amused. Keith felt pain stinging in his chest at this resentment. He'd expected Murphy to have trouble getting it, he was a completely down to earth, old-fashioned guy after all. But he had also expected him to be at least a little bit more understanding. And not just condescending. 

“So, you think it's fine to fuck a guy but if you wanna be with him then that's just not a possibility?”, Keith had to restrain himself from yelling, feeling tears sting in his eyes because of Murphy’s reaction. 

“No for god's sake...nothing about this is fine, it's against the goddamn law, man…”, Murphy returned, pretty outraged. “Are you fucking crying right now?”, he added almost shocked as he saw Keith rapidly blinking away his tears of frustration and disappointment. “Did that hooker turn you into a pansy or what?”, he accused him and for a moment, Keith just stared at him, appalled. 

He couldn't believe Murphy was throwing things like that at him. The guy was like the older brother he never had, and he'd literally take a bullet for him. They'd only been working together for half a year, but they'd already went through so much shit together. After what Murphy had done for him the other day, after basically saving his ass, he honestly couldn't handle how he was reacting right now just because of Mick. 

“You wanna know why I was fine last week when you asked me about it? When I came in to work and wasn't completely fucked up for once? It was all just because of Mick…and I don't give a crap about the law”, Keith replied in anger, his voice breaking, and he hated himself for almost starting to cry. 

“For god's sake, Keith...you cannot be serious about this whole thing...it's ridiculous”, Murphy commented and looked as if he'd like to slam his head onto the table in disbelief. 

“Why won't you at least let me talk to him, Murph? I don't see how this could hurt the investigation”, he dared to ask, ignoring his partner's previous words even though they'd honestly hurt him. 

“Because you attacked a man over him, Keith, that's why! Do you even hear yourself? You sound like you don't give a crap about the work we gotta do here! Or the law, for that matter!”, Murphy was visibly outraged now, and Keith almost regretted saying anything. It was so obvious that his partner couldn't get any of it. There was no grey space in his morals. Only black and white. Only wrong or right. 

“And you only care about doing the job correctly, always...that's all you do, that's all you ever see. Just doing everything the right way…”, he accused him, angrily. 

“Well, because that's what we do, Keith! Not fucking hookers and then believe we fell in love with them just because we’re lonely, for fuck's sake!”

“Did you tell him to stay away from me as well?”, he wanted to know, bitterly glaring at him. 

“We've got a case to solve here”, Murphy answered evasively. 

“What about once it's solved?”, Keith wanted to know. 

“Do whatever you have to as long as it doesn't interject with our work”, his partner shrugged, still in a grumpy tone and Keith didn't completely believe him. 

“Even if it's against the law?”

“Just be glad I didn't tell the captain and that I saved your ass, okay?”, Murphy remembered him. 

“Alright...I suppose…”, Keith mumbled, not sounding very pleased. 

“What did you tell him?”, he asked anew.

“I told him to stay away from you unless he'd like to risk getting arrested for further compromising this case”, Murphy returned with a grumpy look. 

“Fuck you, Murphy, you know that threatening him totally wasn't necessary”, Keith threw at him in a sulky tone. 

“Judging from your reaction, it was…”, his partner only replied, clearly mad. “He'll be fine as long as he plays by the rules, same goes for you, bud”, he added then. 

“Can I see him, though?”, he asked without looking at his partner. 

“Once the case is solved”, Murphy returned, and Keith just nodded because he really wasn't in the mood to get into another argument with him right now. 

 

It took exactly fifteen more days to figure it all out. Fifteen days in which Keith barely talked to Murphy because they didn't work together on the case anymore and because Keith was still mad at his partner. For belittling his feelings for Mick and for not taking him seriously. And as well for keeping him away from Mick just because it was best for the case. Keith was almost certain that Murphy thought he only wanted to fuck Mick because he was lonely and selfish, or wanted to be rebellious or whatever.

He also was frustrated and miserable the whole time because he didn't know what was going on. Neither with the case, nor with Mick. Apparently, Murphy had truly told him not to contact him, because otherwise he could have just called him. At least that's what Keith told himself. He didn't want to think about the other options, about Mick not trying to get in touch with him because he simply had given up. Probably he'd realized that it was pointless, that there was no way they could ever really be together. Maybe he'd started doubting Keith's intentions again. There were endless scenarios that his mind kept torturing him with and one night he grew so frustrated and helpless, that he just tried calling at the brothel. They simply told him that they couldn't give him Mick's number, so he smashed down the receiver in anger. 

Once more he tried to bury himself in work in order to avoid drinking too much and ended up regularly sleeping at his desk instead of in his bed. Murphy noticed what was going on with him but didn't offer him any comfort and Keith was glad about it because he knew that he neither deserved it, nor did he want it. 

More than two weeks after Murphy had brought Keith breakfast, and at least two days after last seeing him at the station, Murphy appeared at the bullpen one late afternoon, walking up to Keith's desk in fast steps, before stopping short in his tracks and a slight smile spread on his face.

“We got him...we solved the brothel murder!”

“You did?”, Keith returned in surprise and looked up from the report he was just reading. 

“Yeah, he confessed”, Murphy agreed, not without some satisfaction in his voice. 

Keith didn't know what to reply for a moment. It seemed a little surreal to him that the case was closed now, all of a sudden. Finally, he settled on “Congrats, bud.”

“Come on, let's grab some dinner, I feel like I haven't eaten in days...then I'll tell you about it”, he suggested. 

“You barely didn't talk to me in two weeks and now you wanna have dinner together?”, Keith wanted to know, astonished and somewhat bitter. He couldn’t deny that he was still angry at his partner for the way he reacted to his feelings for Mick. 

“Keith...come on, pal, it's all over now...also you didn't talk to me either”, Murphy tried to convince him. 

“Yeah, cause you weren’t here and we weren't working together and cause you…”, Keith started but stopped himself, because he realized that he couldn’t just throw this out here, with half a dozen of their colleagues working just a couple meters away. 

“What?”

“You didn't take me seriously”, he whispered in a cranky tone. 

“What's that about now?”, Murphy wanted to know. 

“You know exactly”, Keith meant not without sounding pissed, but Murphy just stared at him, clueless. 

“Come on, buddy, let's not do this here right now”, he finally decided. 

“Fine, let's go someplace else”, Keith agreed and grabbed his coat. 

They left the bullpen and then the station, Keith walking a few steps faster than Murphy because he was so disgruntled. For lack of any better place to go to in order to talk undisturbed, they settled for Murphy's car. Once they were sitting in the car, he turned around to Keith, just looking at him in question.

“I thought you'd be happy about solving the case”, he meant, sounding a little confused. 

“Well, I didn't even contribute to solving it”, Keith all but snarled at him. 

“Yeah cause you had to sabotage it by fucking a hooker”, Murphy accused him in return, giving him a displeased look. 

“See, and that is exactly what I meant...I told you, Murph...I like him...I really do like him, it's not just about fucking him, okay? But you won't get it, you'll even make fun of me for it”, Keith told him in a resentful voice. It was outright frustrating that his partner, who naturally was a pretty smart guy, just didn't get this. Or he wasn't willing to, which was even worse. 

“Keith, come on, man…”, Murphy tried, but Keith wouldn't have it. 

“No, Murphy, you come on now...you know I've been jagged out of my mind, you know I've been lousy and miserable, you know exactly...and then I meet someone who...who makes me feel...I was happy, alright? The night before that thing with Henderson happened, I went to talk to Mick...I was boozed up, but I told him...I told him how I feel and he...he feels the same way...I was finally happy again, because of him...and then that asshole showed up and everything went to shreds...and thanks to you, Murphy, I haven't seen him in almost three weeks now...so there you got the reason why I'm not ecstatic”, Keith went on ranting, spilling it all out there because he was so incredibly enraged about his partner. 

“Keith, I'm sorry, alright, man? I didn't know…”, Murphy started to apologize, but Keith didn't care, he was too hurt. 

“Yeah, you did, I told you...you didn't wanna understand”, he accused him. 

“Okay, pal...whatever, I'm sorry, alright? And I got something to tell you”, Murphy tried again, and Keith grew more outraged by the fact that Murphy just dismissed him like that.

“I can't believe you're acting like that...god, I don’t even wanna hear it, okay? But the case is solved now, fine...does this mean I can finally see Mick again?” It was really hard to calm down again, but eventually there might at least be an upside about this whole thing. Murphy had told him that it would be alright to see Mick once the case was closed, so now it was about time. 

“Yeah, if you gotta...but don't you wanna hear about the case first?”, Murphy gave back, slightly frustrated by now as well. 

“Drive me to the brothel, I want to see him”, Keith meant as if he hadn't even listened to Murphy's last words. 

“He isn't at the brothel”, he just replied. 

“What?”

“I'll tell you, alright? Just listen for a moment”, Murphy said, as Keith was looking at him in confusion. 

“Fine…”, he eventually gave in, because it didn't seem like he had another choice. 

Then Murphy started to tell him about how they solved the case and how in the end everything turned out even bigger than anticipated. The whole connection between Henderson and the murderer who'd used the Henderson’s container shipping business in order to smuggle blood diamonds from Africa. As it was, the victim hadn’t swallowed drugs like they'd mused after finding traces of it in her system, but she'd actually swallowed some smuggled diamonds. When the murderer came to pick them up at the brothel, he didn't have enough time to wait it out until she got rid of them the natural way, since he'd been blackmailed and had a time limit to meet if he didn't want to risk the lives of his children. So out of sheer impatience and frustration he'd eventually strangled her and cut her open in order to get the diamonds out of her. Then he handed them to the people he owed them to and who’d blackmailed him about killing his family.

“Wait, does that mean Henderson will be prosecuted as well?”, Keith wanted to know, once Murphy had finished this obscure story. There were clearly some loose ends left to be tied up, but at least the murderer was caught. Dealing with smugglers and drug cartels wasn't their business as long as there wasn't another homicide. 

“Yeah for smuggling diverse items…”, Murphy agreed. 

“Good, that's some good news...well done, Murph”, Keith meant and sounded honestly glad about this development, simply because he couldn't stand that Henderson guy for how he’d treated Mick. 

“Thanks, bud”, Murphy returned with a nod. 

“What about Mick now?”, Keith asked then. The case was closed, at least for their squad. There was nothing left to be compromised now and he should finally be able to see him again. 

“Let me drive you home, then you'll see”, his partner only replied cryptically as he started his car. 

“See what?”

“Just...let me take you home, okay?”

“Murphy…”, Keith gave back in annoyance. “What are you playing?”

“Okay, fine...it was supposed to be...I just wanted to apologize, I guess?”

“What are you talking about?”, Keith asked in confusion, staring at Murphy who had his eyes fixed on the street. 

“I'll tell you when we're there, alright?”, Murphy offered after a moment, pretending he had to focus on the traffic. Keith only sighed and shrugged, before pulling out his cigarettes and lighted one. 

As Murphy stopped his car in front of the building Keith was living in, but didn't show any intention to get out, Keith got even more confused.

“What is it now? Where is Mick? Why don't you come up with me and tell me what you know?”, Keith asked, slightly annoyed by his partner's behavior. 

“Look...I admit I actually realized, okay...that you were miserable cause of that whole thing. I still think it suited you just fine after what you did, but...see, you're my pal and I just want you to be alright again...so I told him to come here”, Murphy admitted and sounded somewhat coy while avoiding to directly look at Keith. 

“What?”, he got out, astonished, turning around to face Murphy. 

“I rang him up earlier at the brothel and told him the case is solved and that he can come see you now if he wants to...so I suggested he meet you here”, Murphy explained, not without seeming a little embarrassed. 

“Mick's here?”, is all Keith could ask because he was honestly too taken aback. He hadn't expected something like that from Murphy. 

“Yeah, at least he told me he'd get here”, his partner confirmed with a grin, as he saw the surprise on Keith's face. 

“Thanks, Murph”, he meant, shortly patting his shoulder, then grabbing for the door handle. 

“It's okay...now, go do what you gotta do”, he returned, and Keith started grinning at him, before he got out of the car.

While walking up the stairs to the fourth floor where he was living, on one hand he fully expected it all being some kind of hoax and Mick not actually being there. On the other, with every step he walked up, he felt a little more nervous and a little more excited all at the same time, just because he hadn't seen Mick in such a long while. He also contemplated that he was glad for having spent the last night at home, even without drinking too much, because like that he knew that his flat was at least somewhat presentable and he also had showered, so he didn't look like a complete mess either. As he finally arrived at the last staircase, looking up to where the door to his apartment was, even though he almost had expected him not to be there, Mick was waiting for him in front of his apartment. The moment he spotted Keith, a small smile crept onto his face and with each step that he went upstairs, Keith's heart started beating faster, while he returned his smile almost coyly. 

“Mick”, was the only thing he got out as he reached the landing and stopped shortly in front of him, examining him. He looked somewhat pale and like he hadn't really eaten in days, at least his cheeks seemed to be quite hollow and he appeared a bit lost in his long brown fur coat. 

“Hi”, Mick returned, still with this little smile on his lips, but his demeanor appeared somewhat timid. 

“Hey...you're actually here”, Keith meant then, almost in disbelief, just staring at him like he couldn't quite believe he was real. In the next moment, Mick stepped a bit closer and Keith pulled him into his arms, embracing him tightly. He held his slender body close for what felt like minutes, breathing in his scent mixed with the typical sweet smell of his perfume, feeling Mick's warm breath against his neck, as quiet tears rolled down his cheeks because he was so relieved to finally see him again. 

“Let's get inside”, he whispered after a while, not wanting to let go of Mick, but it occurred to him that they couldn't just stand there in the middle of the staircase like that forever. Eventually, he let go of him to unlock the door and they stepped inside his apartment. Keith kicked off his boots and then threw his coat onto the coat rack, while Mick did the same. Almost uncharacteristically, he was dressed in black jeans, not skin-tight, but still skinny and a simple white t-shirt, another one of his silk scarves wrapped around his neck. He looked beautiful as ever, even if pretty exhausted and even more fragile than usually. 

“How are you, are you alright?”, Keith wanted to know, not without some concern in his voice as they were just standing there in the middle of his floor between living room and kitchen. 

“I'm okay now”, Mick gave back, almost abashed, twirling one end of his scarf around his fingers, a telltale sign of him being nervous. “Are you alright too?”, he added then, carefully looking at him, probably noticing how tired he looked. 

“It's fine now...you're here”, Keith answered, not without getting slightly flustered. “Do you...do you want a drink or something?”, he offered, not sure what else to say right then. He'd waited for this moment for weeks, had wanted to see Mick so badly, but now that he was right there with him, he was really uncertain of what to do or what to say, even though there was a lot they had to talk about. 

Mick only shook his head, as Keith swallowed heavily. “Let's just sit down in the living room then?”, he suggested, running a hand through his hair a little antsy, messing it up, as Mick agreed. 

Keith sat down in one corner of the couch, halfway leaning his back against the armrest, simply looking at Mick who'd sat down next to him, but not too closely. There was so much he wanted to say and to ask that he didn't knew where to start. Luckily, though, Mick opened his mouth first, surprising him slightly with his words. 

“Can we just not talk right now? Could you...could you maybe just hold me...only for a little while?”, Mick asked in a low voice, shyly looking over at him from where he was sitting, as he blushed visibly. A warm feeling spread in Keith's chest at this, as he started smiling slightly because Mick was being incredibly endearing. 

“Come here”, he replied, without hesitation, smiling encouragingly, as Mick scooted over to him and Keith lifted up his arm so Mick could snuggle against his chest. 

Keith engulfed his frail body with his arms, as Mick leaned into the embrace, sighing contently. They just stayed lying on the couch like this, their limbs entangled, and Keith lightly ran his fingers over Mick's shoulder and upper arm. It was amazingly soothing and pleasant to be cuddled up this way, sensing the warmth of each other's bodies, their steady breathing, and Keith could even make out Mick's heart beating against his own chest. Now there was nothing left of their initial nervousness and awkwardness. Instead, the feeling spreading through his body while hugging Mick closely like this was wonderfully enjoyable and Keith mused that if he could just hold on to this, there literally was little else that he needed, because it seemed nearly perfect. He didn't want to ruin this almost-perfection, but as he felt Mick slightly shiver against him, Keith looked down at him, only becoming aware again of the fact that Mick was just wearing a t-shirt. He honestly didn't know why he was always dressed this lightly, it was fall after all. 

“Are you cold?”, he asked him quietly, gently running his hand over Mick's arm. 

“Just a little”, Mick admitted, as Keith already stretched for the woolen blanket draped over the backrest of the couch. “It's usually much warmer in my room”, he added, sounding a little abashed, as Keith spread the blanket over both of them and then wrapped his arms around Mick again. 

“I can turn up the heater if you like”, he mentioned but Mick only shook his head. 

“It's fine like that”, he replied, lifting up his head to give him a little smile. 

“What about your neck?”, Keith wanted to know then as he considered the light pink silk scarf he was wearing. 

“I just like the scarf”, Mick answered with a tiny grin, following his view. “But it's alright...the bruising is gone”, he added, nuzzling his head back against Keith's chest. 

“The scarf suits you really nicely”, he meant, drawing little patterns on Mick's back with his fingers. 

“Thanks”, Mick mumbled in return and Keith could see him blush lightly. 

“I've been thinking about this a lot lately, you know”, Keith whispered after a moment. 

“About what?”, Mick wanted to know just as quietly. 

“Holding you like this...like that day when we woke up in bed together…”, he admitted, feeling his cheeks grow a little hot as Mick simply returned a sweet smile and Keith couldn't help himself but press a soft kiss to his temple. 

“I'm sorry for what happened, you know...”, Keith added then, not being able to hold back anymore what he'd wanted to tell him for weeks. “That day with Henderson...I shouldn't have freaked out like that...and I should have checked on you, made sure you were okay...I was so concerned for you”, he meant, sighing. “I know it was incredibly stupid and I got what I deserved, being pulled off the case and all...but it didn't really matter...all I wanted was for you to be alright.” 

“You don't have to be sorry for that...you risked your job because of me, Keith. You were there in time...you protected me. So, there's no need to apologize, not for that”, Mick affirmed, lifting his head off Keith's chest to be able to look at him. 

“Because of you I'm alright”, he added, softly touching Keith's cheek in reassurance, leaning in further, brushing his lips in a chaste, tender kiss. Before Keith could return it, however, he’d already pulled back again, sweetly smiling at him. 

“But you look like you haven't eaten in days...”, Keith observed carefully, despite Mick obviously seeming happy and content right now. He didn't mean to sound accusing, just concerned. 

“I didn't”, Mick admitted, averting his gaze, his smile fading. 

“Why not?”, Keith wanted to know, shifting his position to sit up a little. 

“I missed you...I didn't think I'd see you again anytime soon…”, he sighed, and Keith completely got this sentiment, because it was exactly the same for him. “And I tried to save up money…I barely...I didn't have many clients lately…”

“Did something happen?”, he asked, almost afraid of the answer. 

“No...I just...I don't want to do this anymore…”, he sighed, shuffling away from him a bit to be able to better talk to him. 

“Work at the brothel?”

“Yeah...you were right, you know...I...I've been thinking about this for days...I spent some time at Betty's...you know if I don't...if I don't earn money then I cannot keep my room. And I don't have anywhere else to go...but...I cannot do this anymore...I don't want to…”, he got out, his voice breaking in the end and tears were shining in his eyes. 

“Hey…”, Keith returned, stroking over his back lightly. “It's gonna be alright, we're gonna figure this out”, he tried soothing him. “I meant it, you know...sure I was drunk, but I meant it when I said you could move in with me...and I still do. Do you wanna come live with me?”

“You mean this for real?”, Mick asked, almost in surprise, his big blue eyes growing even wider. 

“Yeah, why not? There's enough room for the both of us here…”, Keith only shrugged, giving him a lopsided grin. 

“I...I don't know”, Mick gave back, coyly. 

“I know this is...maybe a little rushed, yeah. But...you need a place to stay and I’ve got one…and it would be nice. We'd be together...”, Keith meant, smiling, trying to persuade him. 

“What do you expect from me in return?”, Mick wanted to know, and Keith's expression crumbled, as he furrowed his brow in confusion and hurt. 

“Mick...come on, this isn't...you know I'm not like these people, you know that, right? I expect nothing from you...I just...I really like you a lot. I also missed you, so much...I just wanna be with you, because you make me finally feel happy again...that's all”, he got out, not quite able to hide that Mick's question had hurt him. 

“I know...I...I'm sorry for asking that, it's just...nobody ever...I'm not used to that”, Mick stammered, honestly looking sheepish.

“It's fine...I understand”, Keith only said, looking down on his hands.

“I know you actually care about me, Keith...and I really do like you too. Nobody has ever treated me the way you do, you make me feel safe and wanted at the same time...and I'm just really not used to it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that”, Mick explained, taking Keith's face in his hands to make him look up at him. The look in his eyes was honest and loving and even if he'd have wanted to, Keith could never be upset at him for something like that. 

“Does that mean…you want to be with me?”, he dared to ask a few moments later, unwillingly holding his breath until Mick eventually nodded and gave him a coy smile. Keith started smiling at him widely, before cupping his cheeks as well and he pulled him in for a gentle kiss. Mick slowly moved his soft lips against Keith's and while he was kissing him back, his heart felt like imploding in his chest with indescribable happiness. 

“So...is this also a yes to moving in with me?”, he grinned at him, as they eventually had to part again to gasp for some air. 

“Okay, yeah”, Mick finally agreed with a smirk, one of his hands still resting at Keith’s neck. 

“Yeah?”, Keith returned, unable to hide his excitement. He hadn't’ felt like that in an eternity, almost giddy and carefree. The prospect of Mick moving in with him and them living together, being together, wasn't something he'd ever imagined possible. Murphy would probably lynch him for it being against the law and all, but honestly, Keith couldn't care less and didn't want to waste any more thoughts on that matter. It was nobody's business after all but his and Mick's. 

“Yeah”, Mick repeated, equally excited now and leaned in for another longer kiss, that Keith eagerly returned. It wasn't just tender now like before but a little more demanding and Mick wrapped his arms around his neck as Keith pulled him onto his lap, a hand tangling in his hair to mess it up. Keith sighed contently as Mick slid his tongue into his mouth and he grabbed him by his waist to hold him closer. Just as Keith ran a hand along Mick's side towards the hem of his t-shirt, Mick's stomach started rumbling due to being hungry and he immediately let go of Keith, grinning a little in embarrassment, as Keith just chuckled. 

“I think we should have some dinner first”, Keith meant, sounding a little amused but not teasing. “How about some mac and cheese?”, he suggested, already getting up from the couch, holding a hand out for Mick to pull him up. 

“Sounds perfect”, he replied, as they both were happily grinning at each other, so Keith grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the kitchen.


End file.
